


The Moon and the Star

by Ravensoul



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Balcony Climbing, Cameras, Everyone is Better at Feelings Than Them, Fluff and Angst, Hinata Shoyo is a Good Friend, Interviews, KageTsuki - Freeform, Kageyama Tobio Being an Idiot, Kageyama Tobio is Bad at Feelings, Kuroo Tetsuro is a Nuisance, M/M, Mostly Fluff, They are Both Dorks, TsukiKage, Tsukishima Kei Being a Shit, Tsukishima Kei is Bad at Feelings, Volleyball, When are Kisses Going to Happen, Window Kisses, Yamaguchi Tadashi is a Good Friend
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-26
Updated: 2016-12-18
Packaged: 2018-04-28 05:25:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 26,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5079535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ravensoul/pseuds/Ravensoul
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Celebrity/Paparazzi AU nobody asked for, but fit KageTsuki so perfectly I couldn’t resist.</p><p>Kageyama is the “King of the Court,” rumored to be the best setter to ever join one of Japan's most elite men’s volleyball teams. Tsukishima is an irritating thorn in his side, an overly persistent journalist and photographer for Karasuno Monthly Sports Magazine who turned up at his bedroom window one night and somehow became a constant in Kageyama’s life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Moonlit Mystery Man

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first ever fanfiction piece and I am dead set on finishing it. It is actually meant to be eight chapters, but if I get positive results I have plans for an extra epilogue-like chapter. Schoolwork may get in the way of regular updates, but I will do my best to finish a chapter a week, so please bear with me! For now, enjoy.

            Click.

            Kageyama was only half dressed when he heard it: the soft click of a camera followed by a bright flash of light from his bedroom window. Kageyama tugged his undershirt on instantaneously. He turned to face the intruder, expecting some forty-year-old, garrulous dimwit, only to find a gorgeous bloke about his age casually leaning on the railing of his balcony. An expensive-looking camera was innocently hanging at his hip, still attached to its owner by the lengthy shoulder strap.

            Kageyama knew he should have been outraged at such an invasion of privacy, and he most certainly was because any guy would be at least a bit miffed by someone taking indecent pictures of him outside his own bedroom window, but with the silvery moonlight illuminating the scene, highlighting the man’s undeniably attractive facial features, Kageyama’s reasonable outrage intermingled with equally reasonable embarrassment and far less reasonable stomach butterflies. With the damn things fluttering restlessly in his belly at the sight of the stunning blonde, Kageyama caught himself imitating an angry, flustered fish. The gangly guy on his balcony carefully corrected his glasses and posture, revealing a sparkle in his eyes and about four previously unnoticed centimeters of his height. Kageyama felt his cheeks heating up and tried to reason with the butterflies that just because someone was beautiful, it did not give them the right to take photographs of him without his consent.... right? The stunning stranger gave a condescending smirk before bringing Kageyama back to reality with the words:

            “Hello, my name is Tsukishima Kei from Karasuno Monthly Sports Magazine. I’m here for your interview.” Kageyama’s fish impression was immediately marred by a dark frown of distaste. Of course. Of fucking course the hot guy at his bedroom window would be there for an interview. Why would he be there for anything else with a camera around his neck and a shit-eating smirk like that? Kageyama had clearly watched one too many romcoms.

            Honestly, Kageyama was a bit surprised something like this hadn’t happened before. Ever since he had become a member of one of Japan’s most successful men’s volleyball teams, the media had been hounding him with incredible intensity. Sure, plenty of paparazzi had followed him straight to his front door, but, nevertheless, this was the first time one was persistent enough to show up at his bedroom window long after the rest had left.

            The intruder’s name had sounded familiar though, and sifting through his memories of the day, Kageyama vaguely recognized him as the same handsome blonde who had, among many others, pestered him for an interview after his team had won a particularly grueling match.

            Kageyama walked over to his window. Said window was almost the size of a door and was only identifiable as a window by the presence of a windowsill a foot up from the floor. Perhaps if the architect of his house hadn't been so conflicted on whether he wanted to make a door to a balcony or a window to the backyard, Kageyama wouldn’t have ended up with a window to a balcony that allowed for nosey paparazzi blondes to lounge smugly on his railing and ask for interviews at ungodly hours of the night.

            “I told you I was too tired to give an interview, so you thought it was a great idea to follow me home and receive the same answer at my bedroom window?” snapped Kageyama, knowing full well that due to the shitty sound insulation the other could hear him as clear as day.

            Tsukishima looked unperturbed.

            “Well, your exact words were, ‘I’m too tired for this; if you’re going to interview me it’s going to be when I’m at home and preferably asleep.’ Since I’ve met your defining condition, it would be courteous of you to oblige me Your Highness.”

            The blonde gave Kageyama the sort of self-satisfied smile that screamed ‘I’m right and you know it.’ Kageyama really wanted to scream, ‘I’m tired and you piss me off,’ right back at the late night visitor. And what was with calling him Your Highness?

            Kageyama’s glare intensified.

            “Don’t call me that.”

            “Your Highness? But you are the King of the Court, are you not? It’s only right that a lowly commoner such as myself refers to you by your given title.” The mocking tone was doing nothing to help curb Kageyama’s temper. Playing games was he? Kageyama could play games just fine, damn it.

            “Well a lowly commoner like you also shouldn’t be disrupting my sleep schedule.”

            “What can I say? Duty calls.” Tsukishima gave a careless shrug and proceeded to whip out a mechanical pencil and notepad from somewhere behind him, sitting himself down on the balcony floor as if he had won the argument and was prepared to listen. Kageyama crossed his arms stubbornly to show that he was not going to be swayed by some moonlit mystery man showing up at his window like an aspiring Prince Charming.

            “You’re ridiculous. You actually climbed two stories to do this?”

            “No, I _flew_. Of course I climbed, Your Majesty. You have a very conveniently placed tree; it’d be a shame not to take advantage.” As Tsukishima sniped at him, Kageyama found himself kneeling, if only because standing took more effort. He rested his arms on the windowsill, giving the wayward prince a half-hearted glare. His glare was promptly deflected and dismantled by an unexpectedly charming smile. Kageyama turned his head to the side, trying to hide the unwanted pink tinge to his cheeks. Damn Prince Charming and his shitty smiles. Glancing back at Tsukishima, he found him snickering.

            Kageyama was so going to cut down that tree.

 

            On the other side of the glass, Tsukishima was finding endless amusement in his latest assignment. Not only was the man easy on the eyes, which Tsukishima could definitely appreciate, the raven-haired King of the Court was so easy to fluster that Tsukishima had wasted no time turning him into an adorable grumbling mess. Anyone else in the king’s shoes would have already filed a lawsuit and issued a restraining order against Tsukishima; in fact, he or she would have probably had them ready to give out like Halloween candy before he even showed up. However, it had been ten minutes already and there was still no lawsuit in sight. Instead, Tsukishima watched in delight as the sports star went through several shades of red and muttered quietly to himself.

            “What was that Your Highness?” Tsukishima teased. The other’s mumbling got louder, but did not get any easier to understand. The young journalist wasn’t sure if Kageyama was giving his consent or insulting his mother.

            “I still can’t hear you, King.”

            “I said okay! I’ll give you what you want, dumbass! Just get off my property when you’re done and don’t come back again!” Kageyama yelled full volume, rattling the window. Tsukishima almost flinched away in surprise before smirking and taunting him once again.

            “Sheesh, King, wouldn’t want to wake the neighbors, would we? They could get the wrong idea if you yell things like that.” Tsukishima was not going to deny that he got a kick out of seeing Kageyama’s cheeks turn pink. It was a good look on him.

            Then again, everything was a good look on a man like that.

            Tsukishima swatted the thought away and interrupted Kageyama’s angered spluttering with his first question, assuming a professional tone.

            “So, Kageyama Tobio, how do you feel about today’s game? Are you pleased at your victory, or were you expecting it?” Kageyama took a moment to calm down and think before replying, and soon enough, their exchange almost resembled a typical interview. Tsukishima couldn’t help but poke fun at Kageyama’s more sentimental replies, such as when he answered questions about his teammates. There was something about the way Kageyama spoke about his teammates, people that Kageyama cared for and appreciated, that summoned an infestation of what felt like Monarch butterflies in Tsukishima’s stomach and an unreasonable desire to be one of those people. To be someone for whom the King’s voice softened and face lit up in a smile. It was embarrassing, and Tsukishima divested of the root of the problem by mocking it.

            Working his way down a lengthy list of questions, Tsukishima found that the closer he got to the end, the more personal the questions became, and the arguments occurred with more and more frequency. Time slipped away during those verbal sparring matches, and Kageyama’s responses were gradually becoming more and more mellow and quiet. Almost three-fourths of the way through, Tsukishima asked a question, only to receive no answer. He looked up from his notebook to the sight of the King of the Court passed out on his windowsill.

            Tsukishima frowned, considering waking him up and reprimanding him for falling asleep like that. However, the quiet rise and fall of Kageyama’s chest and the peaceful look on his face as he slept was tugging on all of Tsukishima’s heartstrings at once and he decided to leave it be. He had kept him up awfully late after all. Glancing down at his watch told him that it was an entire hour past midnight. It might not have seemed like very late for Tsukishima himself, but considering that the King said in his interview that he had been going to bed at ten in order to get up well-rested at five, the journalist felt a pang of guilt. The setter was going to be running on four hours of sleep tomorrow, and it was all Tsukishima’s fault.

            He stowed away his paper and pencil and picked up his camera. Another look at Kageyama’s resting form urged him to capture the quiet moment. With another click and a flash, Tsukishima satisfied the urge and threw a leg over the balcony railing, climbing his way down the large sturdy tree branches. With one last look at the balcony Tsukishima headed off in the direction of the nearest bus stop, making himself a silent promise to come back tomorrow.

            After all, he hadn’t finished the interview.


	2. Returning Romeo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the kudos and your wonderful comments! I admittedly did not expect so many kind words, and I absolutely loved reading them! I wish I could give each an every one of you a hug, but updating the story will have to suffice. I greatly appreciate that you made the decision to spend a portion of your time reading my work!
> 
> This chapter might not have been posted quite within a week's time, but I did my best to get it out as soon as possible for you guys! My apologies for the delay!  
> This story is still un-beta'ed so if there are any grievous errors, or even minor ones, please feel free to point them out!

            Kageyama’s dreams were filled with square-rimmed glasses, sly smirks, and playful, golden eyes. He ran his fingers through soft, blonde hair. Warm mornings. He made tea for two. Oversized clothes and setting two plates on his kitchen table. Paperwork and half written articles scattered on the writing desk. Grouchy, tired, snappy, but endearing. He reached for another volleyball. A quiet click and then the blinding flash. Banter and arguments – kisses too. His wall had more photographs than he remembered... he looked happy in them. A volleyball mid-toss. This was not his sweater, was it? Practice with the team. He came home to an open window and a soft smile. Kageyama felt like he was floating in a warm embrace, long arms wrapped tightly around him. A caress of an elegant hand larger than his own. A whisper, gentle in his ear:

            “ _King.”_

            The warm, fuzzy feeling in Kageyama’s chest quickly dissipated with the obnoxious screeching of his alarm clock. Reaching for it, although it sounded from the wrong side, the setter discovered an awful crick in his neck. His shoulders and his back protested at every movement he made as if he had spent all night in an extremely uncomfortable position. Cracking open his sleep-encrusted eyes Kageyama found to his bewilderment that he had been sleeping sitting up, head on his windowsill. He groaned, his memory eagerly supplying him with the reason he had ended up in such a position. He had been unwillingly giving an interview to some sexy jerk of a journalist – Tsukishima was it?

            Yes, that was right.

            Tsukishima Kei.

            The enraging Romeo had performed an excellent rendition of Shakespeare’s famous balcony scene, except instead of staying in the orchard below for a night with Juliette, he had come up to the balcony for a night with Kageyama. Or, rather, he had come for an all-night _interview_ with Kageyama.

            Whatever.

            Either way, Kageyama had clearly fallen asleep at some point during the interview. He actually felt a little guilty, knowing that the other now had an unfinished report over his head. Hopefully that wouldn’t reflect too badly on Tsukishima’s career… With a sigh, he stood to head to the bathroom – only to fall flat on his face. It seemed his legs had not woken up with the rest of him and were not planning on doing so anytime soon.

            All of his previous guilt flew straight out the window.

 

            Once he got feeling back in his legs, Kageyama went about his normal daily routine doing his best not to think of the blonde from last night. He washed his face, brushed his teeth, pulled on some clothes, and rushed his breakfast in order to account for time lost lying helplessly on the floor. He still got to practice almost half an hour early, stumbling through the door at the same time as Hinata, a bubbly red-headed teammate that he had played with since high school. Although Kageyama had formed close ties with all his teammates, the bond he had formed with Hinata after all those years was something special. It was Hinata that had taught him the true meaning of teamwork and friendship. It was with his help that Kageyama turned himself from a tyrant into the King of the Court. Because of Hinata, Kageyama was the person he was today, and for all of that, Kageyama was endlessly grateful.

            Hinata was also one of the few people who could read him like a book, for which Kageyama was anything but grateful. One would think that a simple-minded idiot like Hinata wouldn’t be particularly perceptive, but he was an adept learner, and years spent in Kageyama’s company had taught him the meanings of all of Kageyama’s frowns – and of his other facial expressions too. This meant that whenever Kageyama had a problem, Hinata was always there to pester him about it in an attempt to help.

            Hinata had almost instantly noticed that something had occurred in the time span he hadn’t seen Kageyama and indeed spent most of practice taking every opportunity to pester him about it, making the task of getting Prince Charming out of his head much more difficult for Kageyama. For a while, engaged entirely in volleyball, he succeeded. At the end of the day’s practice, however, his repressed thoughts came back to haunt him, and as he hurried to catch his bus home, he found himself worrying whether or not Tsukishima would be able to write his article without a finished interview. Maybe what Kageyama had told him had been enough. It was possible that Tsukishima was absolutely fine, and Kageyama was worrying about nothing. But he couldn’t help but wonder: perhaps Tsukishima might not have asked some sort of critical question. Maybe, just maybe, he might come back again tonight…

            Kageyama caught himself hoping for the latter.

            Coming home, Kageyama threw himself into the process of cooking dinner, trying to forget that stupid smile and the playful taunts of the night before.

            Why did he want to see him again so bad anyway? The guy had such a nasty attitude! It couldn’t be just because he was attractive, right? Anyone with eyes could tell Kageyama that the pesky journalist was good-looking, but similarly, anyone with a brain could tell him that one’s personality should be more important than one’s looks. So where was this unreasonable desire coming from? Why did Kageyama want to so badly to see someone he barely knew?

            Perhaps if he got to know him better, these feelings would make sense after all. Kageyama picked at the food on his plate absently. If Tsukishima came back tonight Kageyama was definitely going to ask him some questions of his own. Who was he? How was he raised? What had brought him to such a career? Did he have any friends? Lovers? What did he like? Kageyama wanted to know anything Tsukishima was willing to share at this point. Personal history, interests, future plans, sex life – even his favorite cat breed!

            Actually, was he even a cat person? He looked like he would be a cat person, but maybe that was a hasty assumption on Kageyama’s part. Kageyama was more partial to lizards himself, but he supposed that lizards were actually an awful lot like cold-blooded cats, just less likely to leave hairballs everywhere. Cat hair made Kageyama sneeze. In fact, he suspected he was allergic, but never bothered to check since he never owned any cats. If Tsukishima was a cat person after all, perhaps Kageyama would get himself tested for allergies. Although, since lizards and cats were alike in behavior, perhaps Tsukishima would like a lizard better anyway…

            Kageyama groaned around his toothbrush. _Why_ was he still thinking about this? The day had passed him by without him even noticing. Hell, he couldn’t even recall what he’d had for dinner! He had spent so much time thinking about not thinking about Tsukishima that he had ended up lost in thought about Tsukishima despite his best efforts.

            He splashed water on his face in frustration and gave a dejected sigh. What was the point? It’s not like Tsukishima was actually going to come back. Surely he would have found a better way to contact Kageyama, had he actually needed to do so, than bothering to scale two stories to sit on Kageyama’s balcony again.

            It was better to forget it ever happened.

            With another heavy sigh Kageyama shuffled to his bedroom, stopping in the doorway to observe his window carefully, almost as if expecting Tsukishima to come clambering over the railing at any second. After a minute or so of this, he gave up and stripped out of his clothes to change into his sleeping attire, which was usually just a pair of boxers and a plain white undershirt.

            He was about to climb under his covers when suddenly, he heard a familiar click and his room was once again illuminated by the flash of a camera. Kageyama almost gave himself whiplash from the speed at which he turned. He stared in disbelief and, sure enough, the very one who had plagued his thoughts all day like some kind of incurable virus, Tsukishima Kei himself, was once again grinning wickedly at him through his bedroom window. Letting his camera hang down at his side, Tsukishima knocked on the glass, breaking Kageyama out of his deer in the proverbial headlights state.

            “Hello, Your Highness.”

            “Tsukishima? What are you doing here?” Kageyama walked up to the window, placing his palm on the glass, trying to wrap his mind around the fact that, despite all odds, the blonde annoyance had come again.

 

            Tsukishima snickered at the wide-eyed look the king was giving him. It was cute beyond good reason how shocked the other looked. He somewhat resembled a child this way, his already large blue eyes appearing even larger and almost unnaturally bright in color. There was something so innocent and sweet about the confused look Kageyama was giving him – Tsukishima couldn’t seem to look away. He wished the glass wasn’t there so he could just lean in and- Trying to distract himself from the uncomfortable warmth in his stomach Tsukishima took to mocking royalty again:

            “You see, King, a certain someone fell asleep before we could complete last night’s interview, so I’ve come back to finish what I started.” Kageyama’s eyes narrowed back into a glare, though a rather half-hearted one.

            “Well maybe if you didn’t laugh at my responses the whole time, you wouldn’t have had to come back, dumbass.” The setter grumbled. He was right too. Tsukishima couldn’t deny the fact that it was his own childish behavior that had eaten up their time together the previous night. He shouldn’t have let himself act so unprofessionally anyway; it’s not like the King actually wanted him there in the first place, and now he was the unwelcome guest once again. Tsukishima wasn’t sure if it was heartburn, or was it the bags under the King’s eyes, but he felt a stabbing pain in his chest, which he promptly ignored.

            “You can’t expect me to turn in an unfinished report. It would be completely unprofessional of me! Have mercy My Liege, spare my career.” Tsukishima tried for a disarming smile, although internally he cringed in guilt. He just wanted to hear the setter talk, even if it was only for an interview, but the other considered him a nuisance; Tsukishima had made a career out of being a pest, and now it was backfiring on him.

            “…Fine.” Kageyama sighed, his expression turning mellow once more. Tsukishima immediately felt palatable relief, although he suspected that it had nothing to do with being able to finish the article.

            The last few questions on the list mostly had to do with future plans and career goals, to which Kageyama already had planned responses due to the amount of times others have asked similar questions. Of course he fully intended to continue playing volleyball until it stopped being a physically valid option for him, retire from the playing field, and then likely take up something else volleyball related like coaching. Tsukishima dutifully wrote down the responses given to him, but couldn’t help but pry out of his own curiousity.

            “How about starting a family? Or does the King not see anybody fit to be his Queen?” Selfishly, Tsuishima found himself hoping for a negative response. Hoping the King wasn’t interested in finding a Queen at all and would rather have another King by his side. Or perhaps just a simple commoner like Tsukishima would do- no that train of thought had to stop! No good could come of such unreasonable feelings! Snap out of it Tsukishima! Reprimanding himself, he brought his attention back to the raven-haired man in front of him, only to find a look of silent dismay on the other’s face.

 

            Family, huh? He wasn’t so sure he wanted a ‘Queen’ though… Kageyama sighed and looked up at the trio of photographs framed on his wall, hanging above the writing desk. He supposed the public did expect him to start a family, just like his own family would. He never did tell his parents he had an affinity for males as well as females, perhaps even more so. Wasn’t sure they’d take it well. Hinata had encouraged him to enlighten them back during his high school days, but Kageyama just never ended up working up the courage for it.

            What would his dear mother think of him if right now, in this interview, he revealed this part of himself to the world? Would she smile and say she always knew because she was his mother and he couldn’t really hide anything from her even if he tried? Or would she be disappointed in him and frown quietly, her hopes from grandchildren crushed by her own baby boy, who she thought she could depend on to bring her joy and closure?

            Kageyama worried his lip, his hands burying themselves in his hair. Tsukishima knocked on the window again, eyes filled with something that looked like concern.

            “Oi, you know you don’t have to answer that, right? I was just curious.” Kageyama looked up at him, eyes full of unspoken gratitude. Tsukishima flushed at such an unexpected reaction and focused his attention on the photographs on the desk that Kageyama had been looking at.

            “Who are they?” he asked, trying to drive the conversation away from whatever threw the King into such an anxious state. Kageyama grabbed hold of the lifeline thrown to him and started to explain, gesturing to the first frame.

            It was a photograph of short-haired man with a winning smile, a kindly-looking long-haired woman, and a small child of about seven years old with familiar blue eyes, clutching a volleyball and smiling happily.

            “This is me and my parents.” Kageyama said, running a finger over the image under the glass. Tsukishima didn’t see any family portraits with new additions, so it wasn’t hard to guess that Kageyama didn’t have any siblings.

            “Figures the King would be an only child.” Kageyama raised an eyebrow. What was that supposed to mean? And what was with the shiver that kept running down his spine every time the blonde uttered the word King?

            “Don’t call me that.”

            “Only child?” Tsukishima’s attempt at sounding innocent was ruined by his smug grin.

            “You know exactly what I mean, dumbass.”

            “And you know that I won’t obey such an unreasonable order, Your Highness.”

            “You’re insufferable.” Kageyama huffed. Tsukishima’s snarky commentary was almost comforting – much more natural to respond to it than to his professional journalist tone.

            Kageyama relished it.

 

            As Kageyama continued explaining the photographs on his desk, Tsukishima found himself becoming more and more charmed by the man. He learned that the King was indeed an only child; an only child with parents that never had time for him. The photograph on the desk was taken during one of the rare times when both of them had free time to spend with their son. The lonely boy buried his loneliness with the one activity he enjoyed: Volleyball.

            Volleyball had become life to Kageyama at an early age. It also became his gateway to communication with others. At first he wasn’t particularly good at getting along with others. In fact, up until high school, the main reason he was referred to as King of the Court was because of his aloof and overly demanding attitude towards his teammates. He treated them so poorly, that at one point, they all simply gave up. He was left alone once again, with no one but himself to blame.

            Highschool changed everything. Kageyama picked up a photograph of his high school volleyball team, pointing out each team member, focusing in on a short ginger-haired one that Tsukishima recognized as Hinata Shoyo, a member of Kageyama’s current team that Tsukishima had interviewed a few months ago. He had overabundant energy and an incredible drive for victory, capturing Kageyama in his whirlwind of optimism and gregariousness. He had taken Kageyama’s view of the world and the people in it and flipped it upside down without even noticing it! Kageyama’s eyes softened, attributing his success almost entirely to Hinata’s efforts at turning him from tyrant to king. Tsukishima felt a sharp spike of what he recognized as jealousy. Was there even anything to really be jealous of? He didn’t know, but grit his teeth together nonetheless.

            “So Hinata is pretty important to you then, huh?” came an unbidden inquiry. Kageyama smiled down at the photograph with evident fondness.

            “He was my first real friend... of course he’s important to me.” Kageyama set down the photograph and picked up the next – a photo of his current team. “He’s stuck by me when no one wanted to and was basically the one who got me to where I am today. Hell, I still can’t get rid of him! He’s still on my team, still there to bug me about dumb things, still there to support me when I need it… He really is incredible, you know?” Kageyama looked back at Tsukishima with a bright smile and Tsukishima, in turn, couldn’t help but smile back. Kageyama sure did have a way of making Hinata sound like someone truly amazing, rather than the short, and slightly obnoxious male Tsukishima had met. If he cared like that for his friends, then what would it feel like to experience the King’s care for a lover…

            Tsukishima almost slammed his head against the windowsill at the thought.

            Luckily, Kageyama didn’t notice his sudden grimace, having already looked back at the photograph in his hands, his smile sweet and caring. Tsukishima, captivated by that smile, that smile that he so desperately wanted to be directed at himself, took his camera in hand while the setter wasn’t looking and let the flash light up the room again, the satisfied click informing him that he had captured that beautiful expression on film. Kageyama turned toward him, surprised. Tsukishima chuckled, pleased to have his attention once more. Although, the wide-eyed look he was getting really made those bark bags under the setter’s eyes stand out…

            “Better get to bed Your Highness, you’re going soft.” Kageyama’s look of surprise was immediately replaced with an admonishing glare.

            “Quit calling me that. I have a name.” Tsukishima smirked. Even dead tired the King was as fiery as ever, and Tsukishima couldn’t deny that he enjoyed it.

 

            “That’s more like it King. Ordering me around like a lowly peasant.” Kageyama’s glaring was clearly completely ineffective. Just moments ago, Prince Charming had been smiling that stupidly beautiful smile of his and now the journalist was poking fun at him again.

            “It was a request, you prick. Now get your face away from my window so I can sleep.”

            “Ah, turned away by the King, what a disappointment. Didn’t even get to kiss His Majesty’s royal hand to show my respect.” Tsukishima faked anguish, dramatically throwing his hand up to his forehead. Kageyama almost snickered at his antics before remembering that he was supposed to be upset with the blonde for keeping him awake for so long.

            “Quit whining, just do it and leave, I have practice in the morning.” he said, pressing the back of his hand against the window the way a king might present his hand to a subject. It was only to get the other off his back he told himself. It wasn’t at all because he wanted a kiss from the gorgeous specimen on his balcony, even if it was on the hand through a pane of glass. No it was definitely so that the blonde could leave and Kageyama could go to bed at last.

 

            Tsukishima was endlessly amused at the King’s actions. Kageyama had actually presented his hand for Tsukishima to kiss! For some reason Tsukishima felt that infestation of butterflies from the previous night awakening once again. Spotting the adorable blush on the setter’s cheeks only succeeded in making them go ballistic. If attraction were a medical condition, Tsukishima would have self-diagnosed himself as terminally ill at this point. He was positively fawning over this full-grown man.

            This was just too good an opportunity to let it go to waste though, and Tsukishima fully intended to take thorough advantage of it. He smirked at the other, and slowly leaned forward, making a show out of gently pressing his lips against the glass where the King’s hand would have been sans the window. His eyes closed, and his lips lingered a slight bit longer than strictly necessary.

            When he opened his eyes again, he caught the King’s fascinated gaze focused intently on his lips as he pulled away from the glass. His heart skipped a beat. Did the King…? He could feel his cheeks getting warmer, and he turned to the side, trying to hide them with his sleeve while faking a cough.

 

            The cough brought Kageyama back to his senses, which he had clearly taken leave of when he blatantly stared at the other man like that. What was he thinking?! His surprise Romeo had just been joking around and Kageyama just had to go and make him uncomfortable. Kageyama flushed right up to the tips of his ears, feeling utterly mortified at his social blunder.

            “Goodnight, My Liege.” For what felt like the thousandth time that night, Kageyama looked up at Tsukishima in surprise. He was standing, a barely noticeable pink tinge to his cheeks, prepared to take his leave, but to Kageyama’s consternation he was smiling. Kageyama had basically eye-fucked his lips, and he was smiling at him? Something didn’t add up here! Wasn’t he… offput?

            Tsukishima raised an eyebrow and Kageyama realized that he had been staring again. God, would the embarrassment ever stop? Somewhere between his transformation into a blushing mess and Tsukishima laughing and swinging a leg over the railing, Kageyama managed to bid the journalist goodnight.

            It was only when Tsukishima’s lean, lanky figure disappeared around the corner that Kageyama realized with a start that he didn’t end up asking the man any of the questions he had intended to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again I encourage commentary! Please, let me know what you though of this chapter. Constructive criticism and writing tips are welcome!  
> So is flattery, but you knew that already I'm sure. ^-^  
> Thank you for reading!~


	3. Vanilla Bean Lattes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for the support you have shown me! Your comments and kudos are beacons of light on a rainy day, and I bathe in their rays with joy!
> 
> Apologies for the wait, but here is the promised third chapter. We get to see a bit of Hinata's view on this mess this time around, and vanilla bean lattes really make people think some depressing things.
> 
> Enjoy!

_Was he going crazy?_

Kageyama was pretty certain he was. All throughout the day he kept seeing glimpses of Tsukishima.

On the bus, he spent the entire ride trying to get a better look at a tall male in the crowd with short blonde locks, but about a block before Kageyama’s stop, he disappeared and Kageyama never actually got to see his face. A hooded man with a camera that looked an awful lot like the journalist’s had been speaking with the team’s manager when Kageyama had come through the door; the setter yelled a greeting and the lanky figure scurried away immediately. Kageyama was almost certain he had been wearing glasses. Even during practice, he could have sworn he saw a flash of blonde hair duck away from the door. _Multiple_ times. Was it wishful thinking? Hallucination due to lack of sleep?

Kageyama had no idea, but the amount of sets he fumbled because of it caught the attention of the entire team and, after some suspicious whispering in the locker room, Hinata, eager to misuse his best friend privileges, had convinced Kageyama to come with him to a new café that opened a block away. He vouched for the sweetness of their vanilla bean lattes, but something told Kageyama that it was not at all as imperative that he try one as Hinata made it out to be. The little nuisance just wanted to con Kageyama out of information on his evening escapades.

Kageyama huffed. Maybe it would be a good idea to talk about it. Take a deep breath and put everything into words. Analyze the situation with clarity. Get some advice from his friend of ten years and counting, and put an end to this insanity.

Yeah, that sounded good right now, especially since Kageyama was almost completely convinced that, glancing back, he just saw someone wearing square-rimmed glasses and a hood across the street. It was absurd to let someone take over his life within two days! With determination, Kageyama walked up to the counter and ordered that vanilla bean latte that Hinata had been blabbering about.

Minutes later, he was glaring at his vanilla bean latte as if it had personally offended him, his mother, and his mother’s cousin’s dog. Of course the poor vanilla bean latte would have fervently denied such an accusation if it could speak, but as it was, it couldn’t speak, nor did it have to, since the reason Kageyama was trying to make his eyebrows meet was the ginger man across from him and his dumb, happy facial expression, which his (admittedly delicious) vanilla bean latte had nothing to do with.

“It was just a kiss on the hand and through a window pane, Hinata. Quit making that face.” Kageyama grumbled and took a violent sip of his drink in a failed attempt to look threatening. The only thing that did was make him want to cough out a lung, which he just about did, Hinata’s widening smile being no help whatsoever.

            “But Kageyama, he makes your heart go all gwah! Do you have any idea how long I’ve been waiting for you to find someone who does that to you? Do you?! How can I not make this face when you finally found love? I wanna be your best man when you marry him!”

_Marry him?!_

            Kageyama’s coughing fit worsened at the thought of marrying Tsukishima. Not because he didn’t want to, but rather at the sudden image of Tsukishima in a white suit smiling gently at him as he walked up the aisle. Or would Kageyama’s mother insist on tradition, and one of them would get stuck wearing a dress? _Oh God – Tsukishima in a dress._ His face on fire and thumping his chest, Kageyama hoped that if a lung did pop out, it would hit Hinata in the face.

            “What the hell, Hinata? I barely even know him!” Kageyama rasped out once he could breathe properly again. Hinata giggled like some deranged schoolgirl, clearly having way too much fun with Kageyama’s admission of affection.

 

            Hinata wasn’t even denying that he was overjoyed. Sure Kageyama had almost died in front of him, but the setter had found love, and that outweighed the former in Hinata’s opinion. Ever since high school days Hinata had been determined to find his socially awkward best friend a significant other. It was a pretty difficult task at first, but Hinata’s job as best wingman ever got infinitely easier once college came around. Not only had Kageyama finally figured out how to open his mouth and have something like a half-decent conversation, but his already rather fantastic figure had only gotten better.

            To Hinata’s disappointment, Kageyama only managed to keep a boyfriend for slightly less than two weeks and a girlfriend for eight days, along with participating in a small amount of one-night stands through the years. To say that Hinata was overjoyed at the unexpected news of Kageyama’s suffering heart was an understatement. He was over the moon, heck, straight out of the solar system, that his best friend had finally been struck down by Stupid – no, that’s not right – Kryptid – no, that wasn’t it either. Who was the Roman baby in a diaper that shot people with little heart arrows? Cupid? In his defense, mythology wasn’t exactly Hinata’s strong point. The only part of that class he had actually liked was doing a speech on Hercules. For some reason the teacher hadn’t been happy with Hinata’s spirited impression of battling monsters. Perhaps it was because he had knocked the lamp off her desk? Or was it the hole he left in the wall?

            Whatever, that wasn’t important right now. Right now, his best friend was finally in love, and Hinata was going to make damn sure that Kageyama and his journalist suitor got their shit, and consequently themselves, together. God help him, he _will_ wreak romantic havoc on their platonic relationship!

 

            “So what? Love at first sight happens all the time! Why would they show it in so many movies if it wasn’t real? I bet that’s exactly what’s going on with you and Tsukirina!” Kageyama felt a spark of irritation. How could he forget that Hinata was short on memory as well as height?

            “Tsukishima. His name is Tsukishima Kei. And I’m not in love with him, I’m just seeing him everywhere, dreaming about him, and get weird butterflies in my stomach when he smiles!”

            “So, what you’re saying is: You love him.” Somewhere in the back of his mind, Kageyama realized that Hinata was quite possibly right. He wasn’t about to admit that though, considering how scary that thought was. To be this far gone on someone after two nights talking with him… Kageyama’s face burned in embarrassment and shame.

            “That’s not what I’m saying at all, dumbass Hinata!” he retorted, even though he didn’t believe his words at all. Hinata gave him a look in response that made it clear that he didn’t either. Kageyama sighed in defeat and buried his face in his hands. What was the point of arguing about it anyway? It’s not like Tsukishima returned his feelings. _Besides…_

            “He finished the interview anyway. He won’t come back.” Kageyama couldn’t deny the truth. He had been an idiot. Not only had he not asked the questions he had wanted to, he hadn’t even asked for the journalist’s number so Kageyama could contact him again! Kageyama felt a sharp sting in in heart. Tsukishima wasn’t going to climb Kageyama’s balcony just for fun. He had been there because of his job, but now that he had finished the interview there was no reason for him to come back. Kageyama could have predicted this from the start, so why? Why did his heart feel like some distressed seamstress used it as a pin cushion and then stomped it into the ground with six inch heels?

            “Oi, Kageyama, are you okay?” Kageyama jerked his head up to meet Hinata’s worried gaze. He realized he had curled into himself and had been clutching his shirt, right where his heart was. He slowly released his grip on his shirt, hand shaking a little.

            “It’s fine.”

            “I asked if you were okay.”

            “I’m fine.”

            “Love turned you into an awful liar, Kageyama. Oh wait, no, you always were bad at lying. Your scary face says everything.”

            “Hey, I was born with this face, damn it!”

            “Yeah, yeah, whatever. It’s still scary. Now shut up, quit thinking so hard about your future husband, and drink your vanilla bean latte before it goes sour because of your bad attitude.” Hinata tried to glare, but he only managed to look like a pouty child. Kageyama humored him and continued to drink the latte. It had gone cold already, but it was still mouthwatering, and Kageyama wasn’t one to waste something good when he had it. In the meantime, Hinata went about arguing that Tsukishima was totally going to show up at Kageyama’s window tonight, and that that was how it happened in all the romcoms he’d seen, and that Tsukishima totally likes the setter back because he showed the usual signs and whatever else.

            Also, Hinata was calling the role of best man ahead of time.

 

            A few tables away Tsukishima pulled his hood up further, trying to be as discreet as possible as he sat in the corner watching the two volleyball players converse. He couldn’t hear a word they were saying, the café being rather busy and cacophonous during lunch hours, but his heart clenched painfully at the various worries running through his head.

            What was with that coughing fit earlier? Tsukishima had just about revealed himself right then and there, scared that the King was going to die by vanilla bean latte – which was surprisingly good actually. He may or may not have asked for whatever Kageyama had ordered when he walked in earlier, and he wasn’t regretting a drop of it. Although he preferred tea, the drink he had finished off within the first ten minutes in the café had resounded nicely with his sweet tooth. He chewed nervously on the straw, wondering if he should get another just to take his mind off of the raven-haired man in front of him.

_Why was he following the King anyway?_

            For the life of him, the journalist couldn’t think of a decent excuse for his behavior. He had only intended to get an interview from the volleyball star and go back to his mundane life of pestering other people for the same thing. Unfortunately, the setter, after only two nights – hell, maybe even after just the first – had infected Tsukishima’s mind, body, and soul like some sort of disease. Something about the setter was so gentle and captivating that Tsukishima couldn’t get him out of his head. It wasn’t even just that he was physically attractive. Tsukishima found himself smitten with the man on a level far deeper than skin, although, if he had whispered the setter’s name in the privacy of his own room while relieving some stress, as some called it, then it wasn’t anybody’s problem but his own.

            And quite the problem it was. Never before had Tsukishima fallen for someone quite this fast. Within the time span of only two nights of just talk, Kageyama Tobio had become the object of his affection – no, the cause of his affliction. Tsukishima was sick, that’s what he was. Lovesick. Tsukishima was horribly, undeniably lovesick, and he couldn’t find a cure.

            Not that he was trying to.

            Tsukishima wanted to see him, which he supposed was pretty obvious, considering he was flat-out stalking the guy, but more than that, he wanted to properly get to know Kageyama, without all the formalities of an interview prompt. Tell him about himself too, perhaps, if the other was interested. Kiss his hand for real this time. Maybe Tsukishima would bring him cheesy flowers. Take him on a date, maybe even to this very café. Take him on multiple dates. Kiss more than his hand. Tsukishima would love even to just hold him in his arms. He could make him dinner someday, find out his favorite food and make it for him. He’d make sure to make the grumpy man smile and blush as often as possible, and keep his camera busy to show him how beautiful he is later. He’d love to sleep with him… in both senses of the word. Would the King wear a commoner’s clothes? He’d look cute in a sweater.

            Of course, they’d argue all the time, but nothing too serious, mostly playful tussles to ruffle each other’s feathers. Maybe over what pet they’d want. Tsukishima was sure the King liked animals. He seemed the type. Tsukishima preferred lizards because they looked like little dinosaurs and he had always loved those historical beasts, but the King probably had a penchant for cats.

            Tsukishima mulled on the similarities of cats and lizards trying to avoid thinking about his concerns for the King. And did he have concerns? Yes, he did. The coughing fit was not the only worrying symptom the setter had shown within the last few minutes.

            That could have been written off as a sip of latte going down wrong, but the King clutching at his chest in obvious pain? That set off warning bells in Tsukishima’s head, no doubt about it. If someone had peeked over his shoulder at his phone in the moments following the incident, one would have seen him googling symptoms of heart conditions. What he found didn’t alleviate his worries in the least bit, which was why he was going to think about lizards, and not the fact that Kageyama could very well be horribly sick with a life-threatening condition. Sure, he looked fine, but heart attacks happened even to young and healthy-looking people, and Tsukishima couldn’t help but fret.

            He needed to know. He had to find out the truth _tonight_ , and that meant he was going to have to pay the balcony a visit again. His mind settled, he went ahead and got himself another vanilla bean latte, and settled back down in his corner to watch the rest of the gesticulation filled conversation of the two teammates.

 

            Later that night Kageyama climbed into bed, his heart filled lead. He knew from the start that it had been stupid to expect Tsukishima to show up again, but he still couldn’t help but feel utterly dejected at the realization that his dreams were never going to become a reality. Knowing that it was probably his own fault, he threw back the covers on his bed and prepared to dive into a world of impossible dreams for the third night in a row. Maybe, if he was lucky, his pillow would do him a favor and smother him by morning.

 

            Click. 

 

            Kageyama nearly tripped over himself turning to face the window when the flash of the camera illuminated the room. Trying not to run, he crossed over to where Tsukishima was waving to him. Kageyama was sure that if his life were an anime he would be emitting literal sparkles in this moment. Tsukishima chuckled at his poorly masked excitement.

            “Happy to see me, Your Highness?”  Kageyama forcibly schooled his face into his usual grouchy expression in response, which only made the journalist smile wider.

            “What unfortunate gust of wind blew you up here again?” Kageyama tried to mock Tsukishima’s slight figure for mocking Kageyama’s delight, but it was all in good fun. He didn’t actually want the blonde to run off into the unknown again, not without at least getting his number! After all, if Tsukishima had gone through the trouble of climbing his balcony for the third night in a row, this time without an interview to finish, surely he was at least a little bit interested in Kageyama… Right?

            “Didn’t take you for a comedian My Liege. I’m here because I forgot to ask a question.” The journalist spoke with a casual tone, giving no indication that he could be lying. Once again, the setter’s hopes had gotten ahead of him. Why would someone like Tsukishima be interested in someone as socially inept as him anyway? Of course the blonde had just forgotten to ask a question. Kageyama sighed. He hoped he didn’t sound as disappointed as he felt.

            “Ask away…”

 

            Tsukishima just about opened his mouth to ask the question that had been burning in his mind all day, when Kageyama interrupted with sudden fire.

            “But in return I get to ask you a few questions myself!” Tsukishima blinked in surprise. So the King did want to get to know him after all… a pleased smile spread across his face against his will and he shrugged trying his best to look casual.

            “Makes no difference to me. Kind of unprofessional of a King to stoop down and interest himself in a peasant’s life, but no one can stop you if you want to.” Tsukishima interrupted before the King in question could retort and start another argument. He had to know the truth.

            “You wouldn’t happen to have any potentially crippling health conditions that you’re currently fighting? Perhaps a condition of the heart?”

            “Not that I know of. Why is this a question?”

            “It’s not uncommon for athletes to have critical health conditions and ignore advice from medical professionals. They just keep playing until they simply keel over and die young.” Tsukishima stared the volleyball player down, scared that he might find an admission of guilt in those deep blue eyes. To his relief, the only thing he saw was a raised eyebrow and honest confusion.

            “So you thought I might be one of those kinds of players? Why?” Tsukishima grimaced at the question. Should he admit he had been following him around all day like some pathetic puppy on a string? Would that be too much? Sure, the King showed signs of interest, but maybe Tsukishima’s utter infatuation with him would be out of the royal comfort zone. Was the risk worth the potential reward? Mentally preparing himself for several years in jail Tsukishima answered as delicately as possible, hoping the setter wouldn’t blow a fuse.

            “You were clutching your heart today at the café. It raised my suspicions.”

            “…So basically you were stalking me.” Tsukishima shifted uncomfortably under Kageyama’s stare, like a guilty child in front of a disappointed parent.

            “That entirely depends on your definition of stalking.” God, that sounded pitiful even to his own ears. The quirk of a dark eyebrow that followed did not make him feel any better.

            “What’s yours then?”

            “Obsessively following around an individual without their knowledge or consent.”

            “You’ve shown up uninvited at my window three nights in a row now and apparently you’ve been following me around during the day as well.” Oh sweet baby Jesus, how was he going to talk his way out of this one? It’s not like he could deny it, right? After a moment of pause, Tsukishima desperately threw himself at the first available loophole.

            “It’s not like you’ve forbidden me from coming here, or kicked me out when I have, so _technically_ I’m not here without consent. And I was not _obsessive_ , I just had to finish the interview; I was merely doing my job. Obsession had nothing to do with it. Don’t flatter yourself Your Majesty.” Tsukishima snarked, as if he were disgusted that the setter would think such a thing. If there was a slight tremble in his voice, then he could probably write it off as indignance. However, it seemed Kageyama refused to let him off the hook.

            “What about tonight? Don’t even try to pretend that was an interview question. Why did you climb two stories up a tree to talk to me tonight?” Tsukishima had thought that the King’s eyes were intense before, but, now that burning under the gaze of the fiery sapphires through the window seemed like a feasible course of action, Tsukishima had no idea what he had been thinking. The King was so straightforward and demanding that Tsukishima wasn’t quite sure how to go about answering anymore. Evidently the frown on his face was more than enough of an answer for the other though.

            “You were worried, weren’t you.” Kageyama smirked. However, he didn’t look upset about it. In fact, he appeared to be gratified by this revelation. Tsukishima glowered back at him, simultaneously flushing with relief that he hadn’t screwed himself over with his honesty.

            “Yeah, sure, I was a bit concerned. I’d hate for a good article to turn useless when the subject dies a few days before. Puts my career on the line.” He stared out to the side, trying to discreetly avoid the King’s breathtaking eyes. He couldn’t avoid them for long though, and his gaze was drawn right back to them as if through magnetic force. They really were absolutely stunning eyes… and that smirk – like a cat that got the expensive cream – should probably not be doing things to Tsukishima right now, but the shivers down his spine and weakening knees could testify that it was.

            “Well I’m not dying anytime soon, so you can quit worrying your pretty little head about it.” The journalist snapped back to reality before he could start considering putting Kageyama and cream in the same sentence.

            “Yeah, I got that. Way to state the obvious Your Highness. Is that your way of dismissing your subjects? Has my lowly presence overstayed its welcome?” He sure hoped not. Kageyama successfully turned his hopes into a reality by plopping down on the ground and leaning an arm on his windowsill.

            “I didn’t get the chance to ask you anything yet idiot. Sit down or something.” Tsukishima was perfectly happy to oblige him. He sat down on the balcony floor that he had become so familiar with the past few nights, and leaned forward on the windowsill, pillowing his chin on his arms.

            “Very well, I’ll satisfy your kingly whims. What is it that Your Majesty wishes to know?”

 

            Kageyama mused only a moment before replying:

            “Anything really: interests, family, previous assignments, your whole life story if you want. I want to know who you are as a person, or I’ll feel like I gave myself away to a total stranger.” Tsukishima smirked, and Kageyama almost immediately regretted his word choice.

            “Comparing an interview with me to a one night stand? How lewd of you, Your Highness.” Kageyama fumbled for a reasonable answer to such an accusation.

            “You’ve had me for three nights in a row now, that’s hardly a fair comparison!”

            “Well, I’ve had your company… I haven’t necessarily had you.” Kageyama felt the very tips of his ears burning at the imagery, almost yelling his response out of embarrassment.

            “You’re just taking everything the wrong way! I had meant that I gave away my identity, dumbass! I’ve told you everything about myself, but I know nothing about you, so tell me something in return, damn it!” Tsukishima tittered irritatingly behind his hand, but agreed.

            His story was that of a youngest of two who had adored his elder brother. His brother had been his ultimate rolemodel in life and when Akiteru – his brother – took up volleyball Tsukishima had followed in his footsteps. His interest in volleyball had fallen through once he found out that his brother had been lying about his lofty position on the team. Disappointed and feeling betrayed Tsukishima instead gained a fascination with photography and writing. Given that now he always wanted to know the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, he made the decision to major in journalism. He did so with flying colors and got himself a job at Karasuno Monthly within weeks thanks to an early application and the recommendation of Yamaguchi, a childhood friend of his that had stuck by his side through the years, and at the time was already employed there as an editor. Tsukishima wasn’t really sure why Yamaguchi bothered, but he was thankful for it. All of it, not just the recommendation. Now they worked side by side, in the very literal sense. Their offices were located next to each other making it far easier to submit his work to be edited: a few steps further down the hall and a knock of the door.

            Kageyama had been listening in rapt attention for the majority of the story, but somewhere around the moment when Tsukishima, unprompted, began to explain how Yamaguchi took his coffee black and Tsukishima didn’t understand how that was palatable in the least bit, Kageyama had begun to doze off, his head lolling periodically.

 

            “So here I am. Talking to you about it. Jeeze, was my narration that boring and unimportant to the King who demanded it that you’re falling asleep on me?” Kageyama shook his head insistently in denial.

            “No, no, I was listening.” The validity of the claim was tarnished by the gaping yawn that followed. Honestly though? Tsukishima couldn’t even be properly upset at such an endearing display. Who could? This dork was trying to stay awake for him, even though it must be the most difficult thing for someone with a sleep schedule as ingrained into him as Kageyama. The journalist figured that if he didn’t want the setter to hate him in the morning, he should let him get some rest. Tsukishima tapped on the glass to alert the other to his words.

            “Don’t lie to me, My Liege. I can tell you’re holding your head up with your hand.” Kageyama pursed his lips.

            “That doesn’t mean I wasn’t listening; it’s just really late.” Tsukishima sighed and stood up. This guy was pretty stubborn. He needed to just make the decision for the King.

            “Yeah, yeah, whatever. You’re clearly about to pass out. Do you need help getting to bed, or should I just leave?” Kageyama, seeming to realize that Tsukishima was leaving whether he wanted it or not, unsteadily rose up, grasped the window frame for balance, and rested his forehead on window pane, blinking sleepily up at Tsukishima. The blonde could only watch with bated breath as his lips gently murmured against the glass.

            “It’s rude to leave without a goodbye you know…” Tsukishima forced himself to look back up to the King’s eyes.

            “Goodbye, Your Highness.” When he spoke, he suddenly sounded ragged, like he hadn’t used his voice properly for weeks. What was this man doing to him? He was fine just moments ago, but one look at the King's obscenely rosy lips and he turned into the voice actor of a desert nomad. He turned quickly to leave, prepared to go home and let himself fester in humiliation.

            “Wait!” The order stopped him in his tracks and turned him on his heels. His heart jumped into his throat when he met Kageyama’s eyes, shimmering with unrestrained hope.

            “You will come back right?” Tsukishima really was gone on this man. It took him a minute to find his voice, and when he did, he had to come back to stand directly in front of the window again because all he could locate a pathetic whisper.

            “Does the King have unfinished business with me?”

            “I wanted to ask some more things…” If Kageyama’s reply sounded just as breathless, then Tsukishima chose not to comment. Instead he smiled contently.

            “Very well; your wish is my command, My Liege. I’ll be back tomorrow evening.” The soft, enthralling smile Kageyama sent him in response was going to haunt his dreams tonight, and Tsukishima was not the least bit averse to it.

            “Good.” Kageyama sounded satisfied. Tsukishima snorted with affection and gently pressed his lips to the glass, miming a kiss to the forehead before bringing his own forehead down to rest in the same spot, Kageyama’s eyes following his movements. He met the gaze head on, his own hands resting on the glass below for support.

            “Go get some sleep Kageyama. Can’t be slacking off in practice tomorrow.” He muttered, and received a slight nod before separating from the glass and disappearing over the balcony railing again.

 

            Kageyama watched him go with a smile before letting himself tumble into his bed, feeling giddy as never before. Dreams came quickly and the warm feeling in his stomach lasted all through the night.

            He dreamed of flying, light as a feather, bathed in moonlight and love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, and, as always, all comments are welcome and encouraged! Feel free to give constructive criticism, praise, or whatever else you might have in store for me. This story is still not beta'ed so if you see any mistakes please let me know so I can fix them.


	4. His Highness and Intentions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the week-long delay! 
> 
> I had theater performances on the 13th and 14th you see. Our rehearsals the week before them went from end of the school day at around two in the afternoon right up until seven in the evening. I had absolutely no time to write except to take care of whatever homework assignments had been given for the day. The following week however, I was swamped with essays, it being the week before Thanksgiving Break and all my teachers seeming to want to get the grading process over with as soon as possible.  
> I had finally cropped out time on Saturday and Sunday in order to bring you this chapter this early Monday morning however, and I intend to follow this update up with another chapter tomorrow in order to make up for my tardiness! To my delight, I finally managed to get in some time for Yamaguchi, and give a glimpse into the lives of a few other characters, so hopefully that is as much of a treat for you as it was for me!
> 
> Please forgive me and, more importantly, please enjoy!

            Needless to say, the following night was not the only night Tsukishima ended up visiting Kageyama’s balcony. Nor were the next few nights after that one. Nor the ones after those. In fact, Tsukishima’s visits somehow became a nightly routine for the two. Every evening, Tsukishima climbed the balcony and flashed his camera to alert the other of his presence. If Kageyama purposely allowed the blonde to catch him with the camera in various stages of undress, whether missing a shirt, or out and about in a towel, then Tsukishima wasn’t fool enough to complain about it. They talked the night away until a reasonable time so Kageyama still would have ample time to sleep, and each night Tsukishima would press his lips to the cold window, imagining that he could feel the warm skin of the other’s forehead, hand, or, on occasion, his cheek. Never anything more than that of course. That was a delicate line that neither one was quite brave enough to cross just yet. Nevertheless, both were happier than they had ever been before with this arrangement.

 

            This happiness did not go unnoticed. Hinata’s new favorite subject, aside from volleyball, was Kageyama’s developing relationship, so it was only a matter of a few weeks before the entire team knew that Kageyama had someone special. Honestly, if Kageyama ever wanted as much relationship advice as he was getting from his teammates, then he would have joined a knitting club. God, he hadn’t even properly held the man’s hand yet and already he was being warned against getting him pregnant!

 

            As for Tsukishima… he should have anticipated people reading through his blank stares, taking into consideration that he worked with people much like himself that noticed all sorts of details, ranging from the more obvious signs, such as his suddenly punctual departures in the evenings for a bus that went the opposite direction from his apartment, to the tiny smile on Tsukishima’s face during his coffee breaks as he observed the bustling streets below, his forehead pressed to the window. One of the first to notice his improved mood was his editor and long-time friend, Yamaguchi Tadashi.

 

            At first, Yamaguchi had been concerned. Tsukishima had never been the type to go for a night out. The blonde always preferred to stay inside and read a book or listen to some music when everyone else had gone out to some party. Instead, Tsukishima’s behavior was a one eighty to his usual course of action. Instead of staying in and acting grumpy, the journalist was going out and being happy.

            Yamaguchi quickly began to imagine all the worst possible reasons for such a drastic change. Taking a bus to the other side of town – did his friend join a gang? No, he wouldn’t be this relaxed if he had… was he getting laid? That was supposed to put people in a good mood, right? But going all the way to the other side of town for that… was he picking up prostitutes? Maybe he was embarrassed about it. Though, with his looks he didn’t really need to pay anyone to have sex with him. Girls practically threw themselves at him despite his personality. If anything, they acted like they were the ones who would pay him to-

            Oh God, did his friend _become_ a prostitute? Yamaguchi mentally ran through all the reasons that Tsukishima taking a side-job as a sex worker was a bad idea. What if he caught some terrible disease?! Although, the more he thought about it, the more unlikely it seemed the journalist would actually be happy to service random people with his body every night for some extra money.

            But then what could possibly be the cause of such behavior? The editor’s eyes widened in horror. _Is Tsukki on drugs?!_ That would make perfect sense because, _seriously_ , since when did Tsukishima smile so much?! And since when did he stare off into space, when he was supposed to be paying attention at a meeting? And the Tsukishima he knew never had this much energy during the day! Yamaguchi was ready to bet that some potent hybrid of LSD, ecstasy, and cocaine was the culprit behind his friend’s new mentality.

            After worrying himself sick for several weeks straight, Yamaguchi finally came to a decision to confront Tsukishima about his obvious problem. If he didn’t get his friend professional help now, surely someone else in the workplace would notice and report him. Such was his mindset when he walked into Tsukishima’s office and locked the door behind him with a grim expression. The blonde looked up with surprise.

            “Yamaguchi? What’s wrong?” Yamaguchi took a deep breath and mentally prepared himself for what was to come.

            “Tsukishima. We need to talk.”

            “Are you okay?” Tsukishima looked genuinely concerned, perhaps even scared, but not for himself. It was almost as if he didn’t realize that he was the one who needed to be asked that question.

            “I’m fine. I’m not so sure about you.”

            “What are you talking about?”

            “You know exactly what I’m talking about. Tell me what’s wrong, Tsukki.”

            “Nothing’s wrong!” God, he sounded like he actually meant it. Yamaguchi felt his heart clench. Tsukishima had no idea how far gone he actually was.

            “Tsukki, please, you can’t avoid it forever. People are going to notice, whether you want them to or not. Just tell me.”

            “Tell you what?! Yamaguchi, are you on drugs?”

            “No, I’m not on drugs! I need to know what drugs _you’re_ on so I can get you help before it’s too late!” Tsukishima stared wide-eyed at the editor, Yamaguchi realizing with horror that all of his suspicions might actually be true. His friend was caught in the sticky web of mind altering substances and would probably die in a few years if Yamaguchi didn’t do something! But what could he possibly do? He was only an editor; he wasn’t qualified for nursing drug addicts back to health! The severity of the situation dawning on him, Yamaguchi wrung his hands together, trying to figure out what he should do now, when, suddenly, Tsukishima burst out into uncharacteristically raucous laughter. Yamaguchi turned pink out of consternation. Why was the journalist laughing? This was a serious matter!

            “Why would you think I’m on drugs?” the blonde in question got out in between hiccups of laughter. Yamaguchi flushed further and began to gesticulate wildly, trying to explain his actions.

 

            “You’ve been acting really weird! You keep taking a bus in the opposite direction from your house after work, and you’ve been really freakishly happy lately! Of course I thought you were on drugs! What else was I supposed to think? That you found a lover?” Tsukishima paled and involuntarily laced his fingers together, immediately cursing his nervous habit, knowing full well that it wouldn’t go unnoticed. Yamaguchi’s words died in his throat, and the journalist broke eye contact, focusing in on Yamaguchi’s top button, trying to look casual under the critical gaze of his freckled friend. He could practically feel the editor staring, clearly trying to comprehend what had gone unsaid. After a few moments of suffocating silence, Tsukishima almost flinched when Yamaguchi spoke up again.

            “Who is it?” It was more of a statement that demanded an answer than a question. Tsukishima felt like he was on trial, being asked to plead guilty and give a testimony.

            “What are you talking about?”

            “Who have you been seeing every evening?” Yamaguchi was still using that intimidating tone of voice, and, trying to weasel out of an answer, Tsukishima forced himself to look at the freckled bridge of the dark-haired man’s nose.

            “My mother’s been sick; I’ve been going to visit her.” Tsukishima lied through his teeth, praying the other would leave well enough alone and end the interrogation. Unfortunately, pity did not seem to be something Yamaguchi was feeling that day.

            “Tsukki. I was on the phone with her yesterday. She sounded perfectly fine and even asked me to tell you to come around some time to visit her.”

 

            Tsukishima’s fingers twitched, still laced together in his lap. _He’s lying and he knows it._ Taking a leaf out of his mother’s book, Yamaguchi continued his staredown, giving the other a knowing look. The minutes ticked by an hour at a time before he spoke again, gently but firmly, cutting through the heavy silence.

            “Tsukki.” The blonde gave a shaky breath, and, finally, he cracked. Not noticeably so, but Yamaguchi had years of experience with the stubborn male, enough to know when the other recognized a lost cause.

            “Shut up, Yamaguchi.”

            “So you have been seeing someone!” At this, Tsukishima buried his reddening face in his hands.

            “Shut _up_!” He was practically whining, in contrast to his previously stoic expression. Yamaguchi grinned. Boy was he going to have fun with this discovery!

            “Oh no, you’re not getting out of this one, you’ve got to tell me who you’ve been eloping with in the evenings! There’s no other way you could possibly be this sleepless and this happy simultaneously unless you’re on some really potent shit, but you already said that wasn’t it, so fess up Tsukki!”

            “Maybe I found a particularly enjoyable hobby, did you think of that?”

            “I suppose if that hobby is bedding some lovely lady every night…” Yamaguchi let his sentence trail off, his wicked grin still on his face. Tsukishima moaned in irritation.

            “I am not bedding some lady Yamaguchi!” The editor smirked knowingly.

            “So who’s the lucky guy you’re screwing?”

            “I’m not screwing him, damn it!” The moment the blonde shouted it, he made a face that clearly meant he really wanted to swallow his words back up. Yamaguchi on the other hand smiled victoriously.

            “So it is a guy! Who is it? Oh my God is it Sawamura’s pretty secretary? Is that why you always have to leave the office first, camera and everything as if you’re going to do something productive, so that our boss doesn’t find out? Sawamura would be furious.”

            “What?!”

            “I mean, I don’t blame you, but I didn’t figure Sugawara was much your type.” Yamaguchi shrugged. Tsukishima, looking absolutely baffled at Yamaguchi’s reasonable conclusion, protested.

            “He isn’t my type! Besides, I’m pretty sure Sugawara only has eyes for Sawamura. I’m not entirely sure they aren’t married already.” Okay, that was true, their boss and his secretary were practically a married couple. Yamaguchi probably should have thought his guess through a little more. So since Sugawara was out of the question, who could Tsukishima be running off with? Maybe that one guy in charge of ad placement? He seemed pretty fond of the journalist.

            “So it’s Kuroo? I should have known you guys had a thing! He’s constantly hanging around this area of the building and you’ve always liked dark-haired people. Didn’t think you were all that into the bad boy type though. You’ve always been the more responsible one…” Yamaguchi trailed off again, eyes wandering in thought over to Tsukishima’s constant companion – his camera. The editor blanched in horror when a thought occurred to him. He grabbed the taller seated man by the shoulders and shook him, preventing any sort of response.

            “That’s why you’re involved with him, isn’t it; he’s a bad boy! He convinces you to break the rules! Oh my God Tsukki, what has he gotten you to do? Does he screw in the office? Did he get you to take dirty pictures with your camera?! Is that why you bring it?! That’s why you bring the camera with you, isn’t it!” Tsukishima forcefully pried Yamaguchi’s fingers off of his shoulders, trying to argue his case, but Yamaguchi wasn’t hearing any of it.

            “What?! No! I’m not even involved with-”

            “Tsukki! You’ve got to delete that kind of stuff, it’s your work camera!” Yamaguchi made a grab for the camera and turned it on, fully intending to get started with the process of clearing it of any lecherous material that it might contain. Tsukishima gaped in shock at his friend before coming to his senses. He flailed and reached for the piece of technology. This reaction only served to confirm Yamaguchi’s suspicions so he maneuvered away and began to flip through the photographs, only to stop dead at the sight of the first. He went through a few more before turning to the journalist who had taken them.

 

            “Tsukki… this is Kageyama Tobio, one of the best setters in the country. _Why_ do you have compromising photographs of him?!” Tsukishima felt himself go red to the very tips of his ears and laced his fingers together again.

            “They’re not compromising!”

            “You cannot honestly tell me this isn’t compromising. His towel is barely clinging to his hips! One more movement and this could have been a screenshot out of a porno!”

            “Why are you looking at me like that? It’s not my fault!” Yamaguchi was actually looking far more worried than disappointed, but his concern set Tsukishima on edge just as much at it put him on the defensive.

            “How is this not your fault? You took the picture! Is he even aware that you took it? He could sue you for invasion of privacy and stalking! Tsukki, you could go to jail for this! You’re supposed to be the reasonable one! Oh God, what do we do-” The editor’s voice gained volume as he spoke, and Tsukishima clamped a hand over his friend’s mouth, muffling his panicked shouts before hissing at him through gritted teeth.

            “Shut _up_ Yamaguchi! Do you want the whole building to hear you?!” Yamaguchi’s mumbling quieted down, but just in case, the flustered blonde kept his hand in place. Taking a deep breath, he gathered up all his wits about him, trying to formulate a reasonable explanation. Finally, he settled on just the plain old truth. No use in trying to lie to Yamaguchi of all people.

            “Okay, hear me out. I didn’t want to tell you this, but he’s the guy. Kageyama Tobio is the guy I’ve been seeing every evening. And yes, he _does_ know I’m seeing him, and he _does_ know I take these pictures. We talk on his balcony every night. It’s not much to go off of, and it probably sounds ridiculous to you, but I think I really like him.” Tsukishima could feel the smile forming under his hand. Tsukishima lifted the restraint with a huff and turned his head, trying to avoid looking at his friend.

            “Aww, Tsukki! That’s adorable! When’s the wedding?” Yamaguchi’s eyes sparkled with amusement, the editor clearly pleased at this unexpected development. Tsukishima felt his cheeks heating up at the thought of a wedding. Was that really what these balcony hang-outs were leading to? Their wedding? He wasn’t too sure what to think of such a possibility; to go from a simple commoner to the King’s life partner – would that make him the Queen? Did that mean he’d have to wear a dress at the wedding? No, he’d never be able to live it down, not with friends like Yamaguchi and Kuroo or a brother like Akiteru. If Tsukishima were to retain a shred of dignity after his wedding, he’d have to wear a suit. The traditional black one perhaps… or maybe a white suit would work better. But why was he even considering this? There was no point in planning a wedding now. It’s not like it was actually going to happen. He was almost certain the King wasn’t _that_ interested in him.

            “…shut up, Yamaguchi.”

            “Okay, okay, I get it. But I will be your best man when it happens, right?” Yamaguchi didn’t look the least bit deterred. In fact, he looked more confident about Tsukishima’s future marriage than he did about the article the journalist had submitted for editing the previous day. Tsukishima resisted the urge to smile fondly. If Yamaguchi could place this much faith in him, then Tsukishima could too. It was a dumb question whether or not the freckled editor was going to be his best man someday.

            “Of course.” Yamguchi smiled brightly and looked back down at the camera in his hands.

            “Honestly though, you should probably start using a different camera for this. What if Kuroo looked through your little cache? You know he has no sense of personal space or privacy. He’s not exactly subtle either. Remember when he found out that Azumane had a photograph of Nishinoya in his wallet when he dropped it upstairs?” Tsukishima shuddered at the memory.

            Kuroo had taken the wallet downstairs to the film department of Karasuno Productions to return it, and proceeded to ask the painfully shy camera man how his boyfriend was doing in front of the entire crew, including the short reporter, who had no idea about the huge crush on him that Azumane was harboring. Tsukishima had been loitering in the area at the time, but Azumane had turned so pale that the journalist had been fully prepared to try to catch the gentle giant if he fainted. Thankfully, he didn’t, but the incident was fresh in Tsukishima’s mind.

            “Well, I’m not hiding a photograph of my heart’s desire in my wallet, now am I?” the blonde tried to argue his case.

            “No, you just have softcore pornography of him.” Yamaguchi scoffed. Tsukishima felt his eyebrow twitch in irritation.

            “For the last time, it was not my fault he decided to waltz around in a towel!” The laugh that followed was all the encouragement Tsukishima needed to make a stop at the store down the street before he caught his bus that evening.

 

            “You got a new camera?” Kageyama said, looking at the unfamiliar device in the blonde’s hands. It looked like a newer model of the previous camera, and Tsukishima’s nod confirmed the switch.

            “I figured I should probably stop taking pictures of you with the same camera I use for my job. It could lead to some interesting explanations. An awful lot of indecent photographs of a famous individual you know… People go to jail for stuff like this.” Tsukishima waved the camera pointedly at Kageyama’s bare torso. Kageyama’s grin was ruining his attempt at faking innocence.

            “So what, are you here to blame me for your possible arrest?”

            “Of course not, Your Majesty. I’m only here to restart my collection of damning evidence for the day that law enforcement finally does come for me.” The journalist held up his camera as if to take another photograph of the shirtless male in front of him. Kageyama laughed and threw himself onto his bed rolling up into his blanket, making himself look like a big, fluffy, blue marshmallow. He poked his head out the top.

            “Sorry, I’ve got to keep myself covered up to keep you from being locked up!” the setter grinned when he saw that Tsukishima was unsuccessfully trying to restrain snorts of laughter. Kageyama had discovered over the past month or so that he really loved making the journalist smile and laugh. He looked twice as beautiful with a bright smile on his face as he did sporting a smug smirk or a resting bitch-face. And that was saying a lot, considering how gorgeous his resting bitch-face was.

 

            “I appreciate your concern My Liege, but you really don’t have to hide yourself from me. That’s why I brought a different camera this time.” Tsukishima took that moment to snap a photograph of the King sporting adorably mussed-up hair in contrast to its usual silky smooth locks. The star proceeded to roll out of bed in response, bringing the blanket along for the ride, and landed with a thump. He stood up and let the blanket drape elegantly over his shoulders before coming back over to the window and plopping down on the floor. Tsukishima found himself wishing he could join the other in the all-encompassing warmth that was the King’s appropriately king-sized blanket.

            “You look comfortable.”

            “I am.”

            “Excited for the game tomorrow, Your Highness?” Immediately Kageyama’s eyes lit up with a passionate fire. If only Tsukishima could find the words to describe how he loved that flame, but the words never came, leaving him breathless to stare deep into those sapphire depths. Someday, surely, he would find those words prancing around in some fantastical forest of imagination and use them to write a book dedicated to the mesmerizing man on the other side of the window, but today was just not that day.

            “Of course!” The King’s response, despite being expected, was so spirited that Tsukishima wasn’t sure what to respond with at first. He settled on asking:

            “How do you think you guys will do?” Kageyama’s mouth drew into a tight line of determination at the question, as if he wasn’t sure about the answer himself, but wanted to figure it out for himself.

            “I don’t know. But I don’t intend to lose!”

            “I’m sure you’ll conquer the court as always, Your Majesty.”

            “Ah, geez, don’t say stuff like that, dumbass!” The setter’s cheeks flushed a bright red at the compliment and Tsukishima felt the unbearable urge to simply morph through the window, wrap the other in his arms, climb under the giant blanket, and coddle the King for the rest of his visit. Unfortunately, morphing through the window was not an actual physical possibility, despite all of his deepest wishes.

            Instead he was left to snicker quietly and find inventive ways to manipulate the raven-haired man’s blush to gradually darken further. The night continued as usual from that point on, small talk and occasionally bouts of comfortable silence. Tsukishima gave his commentary on his reading experience with the Russian classic piece _The Master and Margarita_ which he had started out of boredom but got swept up in during the last couple of days. The colorful characters and completely unique plot made him rethink his opinions on classic literature. Kageyama in turn discussed his training regime and new exercises he was considering, as well as griping about how his curving cross-court serve needed improvement and how he wasn’t sure whether or not he should try something so far behind in development in the upcoming match. And what _was_ he going to make for dinner tomorrow? It was hours later that the two got around to saying their goodbyes for the night.

 

            “Hey, you’re going to do great tomorrow, King.” Tsukishima reassured as he brought himself up into a standing position. Kageyama got up and rosy-cheeked pressed himself up against the window, in anticipation for the nightly touch of lips on glass and the peaceful moments following. There was something about this, that made saying goodnight one of Kageyama’s favorite aspects of his interactions with the journalist. The way the blonde turned from a witty conversationalist to a chivalrous knight in an instant, without actually doing anything out of character for him, was an amazing experience for the setter, and he cherished it deeply.

            True to Kageyama’s expectations, Tsukishima leaned in close and gently, oh so gently, almost lovingly, caressed the glass with his lips… just where the corner of Kageyama’s lips was. Was it a mistake? Had he been aiming for the setter’s cheek? Surely that had been it. Kageyama wasn’t sure when he stopped breathing, but his voice sounded completely breathless when he whispered:

            “Goodnight, Tsukishima.”

            “Goodnight, My Liege.”

            A sweet smile and an instant later, Kageyama was left staring at an empty balcony and the leaves rustling in the breeze on the tree he had vowed to cut down almost a month earlier. Boy, was he glad he hadn't gone through with it.

 

            The entire way home, Tsukishima couldn’t seem to take his hand off of his lips. If only Yamaguchi could see him now, shaky-kneed and nerve-wrecked like a love struck schoolgirl that had just given away her first kiss to her crush. He’d be crooning about how perfectly lovely the wedding ceremony would be. Hell, he’d probably start picking out his suit for the reception! Tsukishima grinned, the adrenaline rush from the bold almost-kiss still circulating through his veins. Trust Yamaguchi to take a centimeter and turn it into a mile. And trust Tsukishima to be up for running that mile to get the prize that lay at the end.

            And he didn’t intend to lose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you once again to all of you who have left Kudos and comments! I appreciate each and every one of you so very much, and I am endlessly thankful for your sweet responses and encouragement! I'm sorry for not replying directly to all of you, but as I said, I have been rather swamped in my school life!  
> I promise to you, however, that I took the time to read each and every one of your wonderful comments, and there aren't enough words to describe how much they brightened my days these past two weeks! Thank you all so very, very much!
> 
> I'd also like to thank any returning readers for your patience!
> 
> Once again, I still encourage constructive criticism, and I would love any writing tips you may be willing to share with me! Best Regards!


	5. Absence and Assholes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to apologize to anybody who is still reading this story. I understand that I haven't updated in an awfully long time, and that this fact is extremely discouraging, but I made you guys a promise at the very beginning that I would definitely complete this piece, and I don't intend to break it!
> 
> At first I had been overwhelmed with schoolwork, then I traveled during Thanksgiving break, then semester finals had thrown me into a whacky schedule, and when winter break rolled around I was stuck decorating and cooking. Then I finally got free time to work on this fic, but looking over my initial plans I went in and changed a lot to make the transition to the ending smoother. 
> 
> I know that none of this is an excuse for my lack of updates, but I hope that you will accept my belated holiday gift to you and enjoy this chapter! I love you all, and Happy Holidays!

            It was game day. Kageyama had woken up earlier than normal, despite his late night, feeling like a kid on the morning of his birthday. He was always in a good mood on game days, full of energy and excitement, so from the outside no one would have noticed the change inside.

            Inside… Inside Kageyama’s heart was aflutter. Not because of pre-game nerves, nor was it because of last night’s almost kiss. No, it was because today was the day he would have someone to look for in the stands. Today he wasn’t just playing for himself and his team. He had someone special in mind today as well. Someone to make proud.

            He would show Tsukishima just how well he could play.

            “Soooo… excited for a certain someone to come see the game?” The look Kageyama gave his short ginger teammate screamed pure irritation. Of course Hinata noticed his newfound determination.

            “So what if I am?” Hinata hid an impish giggle behind his hand.

            “Nothing, nothing. I was just thinking how adorable it is that you’re so hyped about it!” Kageyama just about chucked the volleyball he was holding straight at Hinata’s face at that.

            “I am _not_ adorable! And I’m not that hyped about it!” Kageyama’s indignant yell caught the attention of his other teammates, having an effect opposite to the one he desired. He was suddenly being assaulted from all sides by curious faces.

            “Oh, is Kageyama’s mystery girlfriend coming to the game?”

            “Dude, you’ve got to introduce us to her!”

            “She must be pretty special for you to be showing such exuberance.”

            “Sh-shut up!” Kageyama flushed bright red at the sudden attention. Hinata, conscientious enough to take notice of his friend’s distress, began to wave the conversation away from the topic of Kageyama’s supposed ‘girlfriend’ eventually interrupted by the coach.

 

            Before they knew it, it was game time.

            As the teams lined up along their respective sides of the court, Kageyama quietly searched the stands with his eyes. Where was he? That was the wrong blonde… that person was too short… that wasn’t him either… As he bowed and stepped out onto the court Kageyama grit his teeth together. He had a game to concentrate on. Maybe Tsukishima was just running late…

            But during the breaks, Tsukishima was still nowhere to be found. Kageyama paid careful attention to every row of occupants, and to his despair, no matter how hard he looked, found no one wearing the familiar smirk and square-rimmed glasses of his… what was Tsukishima to him anyway? Kageyama gripped his waterbottle so tight his knuckles turned white. What did he mean to the other? Did he mean anything at all? Was everything Tsukishima had done that past month a game to him or something? Were Kageyama’s feelings a game just meant to be played?

            Going back out to the court, Kageyama found himself playing far more aggressively than normal. With every serve, spike, or set he could practically see the entire game in slow motion. There was the volleyball, his heart, being tossed around in a game of feelings, made to be slammed down into the fucking floor, withstanding each hit valiantly, earning them point after point, slipping through the blocker’s hands again and again. If his feelings were a game, then by God, he was going to fucking win this damn game.

            It was with a wicked sense of satisfaction that Kageyama watched the ball slam down onto the other side of the net. The score changed again and a shrill whistle blew, signaling the end. Kageyama hadn’t been watching the scoreboard. There it was. The last point… the last straw… the game had ended.

 

            So then why wasn’t he happy?

 

            Brushing off the typical swarms of journalists and reporters at the exit from the gym, ignoring the concerned looks of his teammates in the locker room, and losing Hinata in the crowd at the bus stop, Kageyama sank exhausted into a seat in the back corner of the bus and buried his face in his hands.

            Why wasn’t he there? After all that, all of those nights spent in Tsukishima’s company, all the words, smiles and kisses exchanged through the window, all of it! After all of that, the journalist still didn’t come to the game.

            Okay, so maybe the blonde didn’t exactly say he would be there, but Kageyama kind of assumed that if Tsukishima cared for him then he would care enough to come support what Kageyama cared for as well. Completely blowing off the unspoken rendezvous he was supposed to attend was a dick move of him. Acting like he cares and then not even bothering to show his face! Shows how much of a fucking insensitive asshole he is. Playing around with Kageyama’s feelings like that...

            Kageyama was ready to stew in his anger and disappointment all the way home when suddenly his thoughts took a turn for the worst. To circumstances he hadn’t even considered before. What if… What if Tsukishima actually had a reason he couldn’t make it? Maybe something came up at work? Or what if – oh God, what if Tsukishima got seriously hurt?! Kageyama could just be making excuses for him right now, but what if that was why he couldn’t make it to the game? Perhaps he fell down the stairs or something, or got hit by a car? What if Tsukishima was hospitalized or something right now and the time Kageyama had been spending glaring at random passengers was time he had spent being an insensitive asshole?

            Kageyama reached for his phone, fully intending to call the absentee and figure out if he had reason to worry, before coming to the realization that he _still_ didn’t have the blonde’s number! He groaned and slammed his head back against the window, startling the young couple sitting next to him. They hurriedly scurried to the other end of the bus, but the setter didn’t even notice, too busy cursing himself for being so moronic as to not have the guy’s number after an entire month of seeing him and conversing with him nightly. Hinata would be so disappointed in him right now… Kageyama picked himself up from the seat he had been occupying and dejectedly stepped down from the bus onto the sidewalk, beginning his trudge home. The entire time he spent worrying himself sick, imagining one scenario after the next, each resulting in Tsukishima facing unimaginable pain.

 

            Tsukishima grit his teeth. He was in unimaginable pain right now. Well, not physically. Physically he was perfectly fine, if only a bit antsy, but his brain felt just about ready to dribble right out of his ears if he were to be forced to interact with the person in front of him for an hour longer. From the looks of the situation, it seemed that he could wish his gray matter farewell.

            The person in question, if he could even be called a person because Tsukishima could swear it was actually the Devil in disguise, was Oikawa Tooru, setter for another major team in the local region. He was skilled as hell, pretty as hell, and irritating as hell to boot. Whole fucking first-class asshole package right there, on sale, ninety percent off, only costs a penny and one’s last nerve. And Tsukishima was the only one dumb enough to buy it. If he wasn’t liable to lose his job over it he would have stabbed the other in the eye with his handy mechanical pencil within the first few minutes he had spoken to the other. Unfortunately, he was going to have to deal with this eyesore for an unidentifiable span of time longer because he had been assigned at the last minute to get an interview from the man. He was starting to suspect that the guy who was supposed to interview Oikawa in the first place had called in sick on purpose today, just to avoid the torture.

            Smart guy.

            Of course, it was just Tsukishima’s luck that the one day he didn’t want to be interviewing a soul was the day he was stuck interviewing the most insufferable being on the entirety of the planet. Maybe he had been a murderer of small children and cute animals in a past life. There was nothing else he could possibly think of that he could have done to warrant such cruel and unusual punishment.

            This absolute fucking self-centered douchebag of a setter… why, oh why couldn’t Tsukishima smother his obnoxious face with the hellishly uncomfortable, ugly, leopard print pillow he has been sitting on for the past few hours while waiting for Oikawa to show up to his own interview? Kageyama’s game was due to begin half an hour ago, but this moron just keeps going on and on about how many modeling jobs he has on the side! All Tsukishima had done was ask how his mother was faring!

            “Sir, I do believe this does not at all relate to the question at hand. If you would please answer the given question?”  Oikawa paused, surprised at the interruption.

            “Ah, sorry, I do tend to get carried away, don’t I? What was the question again?” Tsukishima dug his fingernails into the palms of his hands. It was now the fifth time he was repeating this question. But he had to stay calm. He was not going to flip the table. He was not going to throw the table at the wall. He was not going to murder Oikawa with the table. He was not going to cause any harm to the table. The table was mahogany.

            “I had asked you to tell me about your mother and her well-being. Has she recovered from her concerning illness?” Tsukishima was almost certain that his hands were going to bleed if he tightened his fists any further. Oikawa took no notice and began to explain his mother’s condition, although about three minutes in he somehow got to talking about the service ace he was known for. Tsukishima stopped him and went on to the next question, picking up his notebook and pencil from where they lay abandoned on the table.

            He had given up on trying to write down sensible responses after the second question he had asked, relying on the voice recorder he had brought with him to do the work of actually listening to the mumbo jumbo flowing silky smooth from the brunet’s mouth. Making himself look busy, Tsukishima began to doodle caricature-like versions of Oikawa’s face and furiously scribbling them out, as if trying to destroy the visage of the real one. After about ten more questions, Tsukishima automatically stopping Oikawa at about two minutes for each one, knowing full well that anything potentially useful has probably been said within the first three sentences, Tsukishima groaned and slammed his head painfully down on the table. It was completely unprofessional of him, but never before had he encountered someone quite so frustrating, except maybe Kuroo.

            For a few moments there was blessed silence.

 

            “Are you okay over there?”

 

            Fuck damn it. Tsukishima glared up from where he was lying face down on the table. Maybe if he told the setter what his problem was, he’d be gracious enough to be concise…

            “I’ll be very frank with you, Oikawa. I’m missing the game because your answers are long winded. Please shorten them. I have important things to do.”

            “How cold! I’m not important to you?” Oikawa feigned a hurt look. Tsukishima lifted himself up off the table, trying to regain his air of professionalism, the only thing keeping him from maiming the other.

            “I am here to pry into your personal life only for the amusement of our readers. Now, if you would be so kind, please tell me, what do you intend to do once you retire from volleyball?” Oikawa grinned, looking like a cat that has caught a mouse.

            “I will turn to elementary physical education. Someone has to coach the little ones, you know? So, is it because you have a date there, or is it because of someone playing?” Tsukishima felt his eyebrow quirk.

            “What?” The setter’s grin widened.

            “Why do you want to be at the game so badly?”

            “Am I not allowed to have an interest in volleyball when working for a sports magazine?” Tsukishima replied coolly. Too coolly apparently because this time it was Oikawa who groaned, waving off Tsukishima’s response like an annoying fly.

            “Oh please, Ice Queen, don’t give me that excuse, I’ve dealt with your type before. Your prickly cold heart is clearly burning to be at that game! That’s not just a love for volleyball, that’s a love for someone in particular!” Tsukishima had almost forgotten that Oikawa wasn’t a setter for nothing. He was actually awfully perceptive, no matter how dumb he looked. On the other hand, he was clearly terrible at giving nicknames. Maybe if Tsukishima poked fun at that...

            “Ice Queen?”

            “You’re ignoring my question.” Damn this guy! Tsukishima ground his teeth together. With the amount of times he had done that while in this man’s presence, it was a miracle that his molars hadn’t flattened completely.

 

            “I wanted to watch someone play. I’m a fan.” Oikawa raised an eyebrow, not at all convinced that that was the whole truth. There was something the icy journalist wasn’t telling him, and that just piqued his curiosity further. Good thing he was used to dealing with avoidance maneuvers. Over the years he had many teammates, all with very different personalities, and not all of them had been as outgoing or talkative as Oikawa himself. However, in order to connect with the entire team, Oikawa had always gone out of his way to get to know all of them. Even if it did take cornering them into answering his questions.

            “And this someone is?”

            “Why are you so curious?” This one was good. Answering a question with a question. Must be the job training, or perhaps natural talent for the job. But two could play that game. Oikawa liked games.

            “Why are you avoiding the answer?”

            “Because I’m not here to reveal my personal life, I’m here to learn about yours.”

            “Then how about we trade.” The journalist’s hands squeezed a fractional amount tighter at his notebook and pencil. He was interested. Oikawa smirked and continued:

            “Well? How about it? I answer all your questions as pithily as possible, and you let me ask a few questions afterwards.” The stone faced expression on the other’s face tightened around the eyes and mouth, and, before he even said a word, Oikawa knew what his answer would be. The setter restrained himself from cheering. He had him! Hook, line, and sinker!

 

            “Fine.” Tsukishima ground out, regretting every single decision he had ever made in life that had led him to this moment. As Oikawa’s smirk grew, Tsukishima felt as if he had just made a deal with the Devil, signed in blood and all that jazz, with a stamp of approval in the shape of Oikawa’s winking face, titled:

            “This Dumbfuck Owes One (1) Soul to Setter Satan.”

            Having been handed that paper he hadn’t done much to protest other than to look up at Setter Satan and ask him if there was anything else, to which Setter Satan had leaned over and pointed out the fine print at the bottom with a microscope:

            “This dumbfuck also owes a few (?) questions about his personal life.”

            Tsukishima had regretted signing this imaginary document before he even pricked his finger to do so, but for some ungodly reason he signed it anyway. Which brought him to the mess he was in now.

            Setter Satan, or rather, Oikawa, was now answering Tsukishima’s questions swiftly and efficiently. Although minutes ago the journalist would have been praising the high heavens for this welcome development, he was now feeling a tad nauseous, realizing that no matter how many more questions he were to throw at the brunet, there would come a time when he’d be forced to answer the evil man’s prying questions in return.

            He was not having a good day.

            There were only three questions left in question session when Tsukishima was faced with the consequences of his decision. Oikawa was not exactly known for his patience. The fact that he had been willing to wait this long to ask some questions was a miracle and for the past four questions he had begun bouncing his leg much like an anxious child.

            “You know what the curiosity is killing me! Who is it?” He interrupted as Tsukishima opened his mouth to make yet another inquiry. The journalist sighed.

            “If I tell you can we please continue?” Oikawa nodded eagerly, putting on what was supposed to look like a trustworthy grin, but to Tsukishima simply signaled impending doom.

            “Why of course!” The setter went as far as to lean forward over the table. Tsukishima remained quiet under his questioning gaze for a few moments, wondering if by some miracle he could jump out the window and survive the fall. Alas, such thoughts of escape were short lived, considering their lack of feasibility, and he was forced to answer.

            “Kageyama Tobio.” In the short silence that followed his response Tsukishima took the time to plan out his will and suicide note. There was no way in hell that he was going to live this down. Oikawa now knew that his interviewer desperately wanted to finish the interview to go see Oikawa’s rival play.

            “Oh! I used to be his upperclassman back in middle school, you know! I was the captain at the time, and his natural abilities ticked me off.” Tsukishima chose to ignore this information completely. He didn’t have time for chit chat! There were only a few minutes left in the game, and that was only if there was a tough opposition. For all Tsukishima knew, the game could have ended already. Games lasted on average about an hour and half, but, if one side was crushing the other, they could last a mere thirty minutes. Tsukishima was banking on the strength of both teams involved to make the game last longer than that, but nevertheless, Oikawa was wasting precious time. Unfortunately Oikawa didn’t accept being ignored.

            “He’s pretty amazing,” the setter added, and Tsukishima felt incredibly judged by Oikawa’s eyes resting heavily upon him as he nodded cautiously in agreement. When he spoke up, he made sure to keep careful track of his tone and tongue, so as to prevent himself from tripping verbally.

            “Yeah… he is pretty amazing.” He steadily held Oikawa’s gaze, but even this did not prevent the smug smirk from sliding into place.

            “Oh? What’s this? Does the Ice Queen have a soft spot in her heart?” Tsukishima’s nervousness was quickly dissolving back into irritation.

            “I’m merely agreeing with you Oikawa, now, kindly answer the questions I’m here to ask you,” he sniped, but Oikawa seemed to have other plans in mind for the leftovers of Tsukishima’s precious time.

            “Aha! You do like sweet little Tobio!” Tsukishima could feel his fingers twitching with the longing to wrap around the eye-sore’s neck and strangle him. Slowly squeeze the life out of him and bury him six feet under. Focusing on restraining himself from bodily harm he abstained from responding to the setter. What did it matter to him anyway? Tsukishima shouldn’t have to dignify him with a reply. However, Oikawa didn’t even need a reply this time around. Tsukishima’s reaction to his words had been enough of a confirmation in of itself.

            “Have you even talked to him, or do you just like him for his body?” This was Oikawa’s follow-up question, and Tsukishima seriously began to question how much he wanted to keep his job. Was the extermination of vermin a crime?

            “I interviewed him last month.” Tsukishima growled indignantly. He had formulated his response to be as indifferent as possible, revealing nothing of the late night talks every evening. Of course he’s spoken with Kageyama. Hell, if not for the glass of the window, he would have even kissed him just last night. But Oikawa didn’t need to know that, now did he?

            “But you’ve done more than interview him right?” Damn his perceptiveness! Tsukishima nearly broke his pencil in two. No, he decided, he wasn’t going to tell him shit! He was the interviewer here after all!

            “Oikawa, please just answer the given questions.” His attempt at putting the conversation back on track was deflected and misinterpreted.

            “Oh my! And to think I took you for a classy guy at first! Corrupting poor Tobio without even taking him on a date first!” Do not punch him in the face, do _not_ punch him in the face, do **_not_** punch him in the face! Tsukishima screamed internally in frustration. Oikawa was flailing his arms overdramatically, trying to pretend he had the slightest bit of concern for his rival’s innocence. Needless to say it was not convincing, nor was it curbing Tsukishima’s rising temper.

            “I did _not_ corrupt him!” He practically shouted, slamming his hands down on the table and rising from his seat. Oikawa stopped his flailing and calmly leaned back in his chair, leering at the journalist across from him.

            “But you didn’t take him on a date either, now did you.” Tsukishima’s jaw tensed. He was right… Tsukishima hadn’t bothered taking Kageyama out on a proper date yet.

            “I suggest taking him to that movie that came out yesterday. As far as I know he’s quite fond of romantic comedies.” Oikawa continued casually. Tsukishima pretended not to hear, seating himself again. This did not deter the setter in the least.

            “Oh and how about that café that opened on Main Street? Take him to dinner first; treat him to something sweet – with strawberries! Eating strawberries makes everything else taste sweeter, including kisses!” At this piece of advice Oikawa gave a huge exaggerated wink. Tsukishima had already known the strawberry fact, being quite the fan of strawberries himself, but he couldn’t help but wonder why Oikawa was bothering to tell him actually useful things. He sat in silence, wondering if perhaps he had been too quick to judge Oikawa, if maybe the setter wasn’t actually as bad a person as he seemed. Oikawa sighed loudly, interrupting these thoughts.

            “Oh whatever, Ice Queen, I know you’re taking notes. But back to me, alright? I feel like I deserve a thorough interview considering I’m not usually so charitable towards my opponents.”

            The urge to kill the brat was back instantly.

 

            By the time Tsukishima completed that interview and got to the gym, the game was over, and, although other players were still there, Hinata explained to the out of breath, disheveled Tsukishima that Kageyama had already fled the building, and in a terrible funk at that.

            Damn that Oikawa! Tsukishima punched the door to his office in frustration imagining it to be the douchebag’s obnoxious face. He ran his hands through his hair and left them there as he sighed up at the ceiling of the Karasuno building. Kageyama was probably upset with him… Tsukishima might not have said it, but he felt like he should have been there for the setter, for his game, for his big moment. It wasn’t just frustration flowing through his veins right now… it was guilt. He hated guilt. Guilt weighed down on him like a lead bodysuit. It made him want to slump over against the wall and never stand again. It made him want to bite his nails until they bled; it made him want to tear at his hair, made him want to hit and kick and scream!

            “Tsukki?”

            “Shut up Yamaguchi!”

 

            Yamaguchi flinched, startled by the sudden scream that erupted from his friend’s throat. Almost immediately the blonde realized his mistake and muttered a quiet apology for snapping at the editor. It wasn’t Yamaguchi’s fault, he said. But that brought up the question of whose fault it actually was. And what even was the ‘it’ that was bothering Tsukishima so much? Was it that interview? Oikawa was known for being a bitch to interview as Yamaguchi was able to gather from gossip in the coffee break room. Or… wait. That’s right, that was today wasn’t it…

            “Tsukki… did you not get to see Kageyama’s game?” Tsukishima hung his head and looked to the side guiltily, avoiding Yamaguchi’s eyes.

            Bingo.

            “Hey Tsukki. Don’t stress so much about it! You’re going to see him after you put your stuff in storage, right? So, explain what happened. Explain, and make it up to him,” the freckled man suggested. If Kageyama was a reasonable guy, he’d at least understand Tsukishima’s situation, and if Tsukishima had any brains, he’d earn Kageyama’s forgiveness as well.

            “How?” Asked the journalist, sounding every bit as exhausted and desperate as he probably felt, but the gleam in his eyes was one of determination. Yamaguchi smiled at that. Tsukishima was a big boy now and he’s found love. He’d figure out how to fight for it himself. Yamaguchi was certain of it.

 

            “You’re a smart guy Tsukki. I’m sure you can think of something.” Yamaguchi gave a wink and a pat on the shoulder and then disappeared into his office. But Tsukishima didn’t bother watching him go. He was already thinking of what he could do. He went into his office and mindlessly set his recorder and notebook into the normal drawer, replacing his work camera with his personal one. He had to do something, right? Something… Something to make up for his absence… Because he didn’t go to Kageyama’s game…

            “You didn’t take him on a date either, now did you?” Oikawa’s words rang in his mind. He was absent at the game because of that douchebag… but he was right! Tsukishima gasped at the realization. Yes, he hadn’t attended Kageyama’s game, and yes, he hasn’t attended a date with Kageyama. Both things would make Kageyama happy, and neither of them has happened. However… one of those two things could still be done! Tsukishima took off down the hall, a plan forming in his mind. He could do this! He could still make amends for his absence!

 

            Back in his office, Yamaguchi smiled proudly as he heard his friend’s footsteps fading.

            Tsukishima had figured it out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I once again encourage all forms of commentary: compliments, constructive criticism, or whatever else you want! You can even just drop by and say hi! :)  
> Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed!


	6. When Words Won't Work

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I did promise I'd finish this story, and I keep my promises.  
> ...  
> ...  
> ...  
> Miss me?
> 
> *promptly falls prostrate before you*  
> I am so sorry for the wait! Please enjoy!  
> I have worked very long and hard on this chapter and I hope it is up to your standards!

            Kageyama sat at his kitchen table, sullenly picking at his food, tired of his futile worries. The smile he had made with his greens on the rice looked like it was mocking his misery. It reminded him of the smirk Tsukishima wore when he knew he was winning an argument. In this case the argument was whether or not the journalist actually cared. So far, Kageyama’s smirking meal was winning, the strands of spinach representing its mouth whispering that if Tsukishima had cared, he would have been at the game, maybe even would have been having dinner with the setter right now, instead of leaving Kageyama alone to long for his company. Realizing he had unconsciously added a pair of artichoke glasses to his malicious smiley, Kageyama sighed and pushed away his plate.

            He didn’t feel like eating anymore. All he desired now was to bury himself in his blankets and never come out; get some reprieve from the harsh reality that had revealed itself to him. Sure it was still rather early, but Kageyama felt like he could sleep for a month and still be tired. Maybe if he went to bed earlier, he’d be able to feel his limbs again in the morning. Maybe laying in a horizontal position would dislodge the lump in his throat and allow his heart to climb back up into his chest cavity from where it was rolling around in the pit of his stomach. Maybe he could wake up the next morning and find out the whole thing was a dream…

            Kageyama trudged upstairs, fumbling around with the bathroom doorknob. Everything was slightly numb and his limbs seemed to be heavier than normal, making mundane tasks like squeezing out toothpaste, or washing his face terribly difficult. With arms made of lead he lifted his toothbrush and leaned heavily on the sink, trying to counteract the weight. Attempting to function in the shower proved to be even more taxing, the setter being just about ready to melt into a little puddle of exhaustion and misery on the shower floor and to dribble down the drain under the influence of the relaxing hot spray.

            “If he doesn’t show up, then he probably got hurt and I’ll go check around hospitals tomorrow. But if he shows up after all, then he wasn’t hurt and was just a jerk, but by that time I’ll be asleep and I’ll ignore him. Serves him right.” Kageyama tried to convince himself of this seemingly self-evident truth, glaring at himself in the mirror. He took a deep breath. He had to stand up for himself. He wouldn’t let Tsukishima toy around with him for over a month and then betray his trust without any consequences.

            His heart was _not_ a damn volleyball.

_He would not be played._

            With this final thought, Kageyama let out the breath he had been holding and exited the bathroom, tousling his hair dry and with a towel wrapped snugly around his waist. He was not going to let this ruin his life. He was a strong independent individual, and some midnight prince wasn’t going to take any of that away from him. Just because one metaphorical door shut in his face with no explanation, that didn’t mean he couldn’t just open another one. In fact, why not open a literal door and get some well-deserved rest after this disaster of a day? That sounded like a good plan. Sleep sounded like a utopic state of being to the setter, so, wearily, he dragged himself into his room, and would have dragged himself straight to bed too, if an entirely unexpected sight hadn’t stopped him in his tracks.

            Had he been carrying anything then he would have dropped it in shock because there was Tsukishima, already on his balcony, completely unharmed. In fact, he looked better than ever, if only a little bit nervous, what with him biting his lip and lacing his fingers together as he sat staring up at the night sky, not yet aware of Kageyama’s presence.

            The blond was wearing unusually nice clothes. Now admittedly, Tsukishima always seemed to be dressed to impress, but he never really indulged in particularly colorful attire. Regular black and white button-ups seemed to comprise eighty percent of his closet. To Kageyama’s previous knowledge, the other twenty percent was occupied by a collection of plain black slacks. Somewhere in there, there was a lone tan sweater for cold weather that Kageyama had had the privilege of seeing once. Apparently, Kageyama’s closet calculations were a bit off, if Tsukishima’s current dress was anything to go by. The journalist was sporting a stunning, bright red button up, paired with pinstripe black slacks and a matching pinstripe tie. God must have been laughing somewhere up in the heavens, because surely never before in all of history had the color red looked nearly as alluring on a human being as it did on Tsukishima. Kageyama didn’t know how he was supposed to survive the night when battling conflicting emotions from all sides.

            Then his eyes zeroed in on the detail that he had missed. The detail he wished he had noticed sooner. Tsukishima held in his interlocked fingers a bright bouquet of red roses. Kageyama’s heart clenched as he realized what that must mean. Tsukishima was ready to let him go after all. It made sense. Not showing up at the game was all a ploy to make Kageyama upset with him so it wouldn’t hurt as much to let him go. He was even considerate enough to bring an entire bouquet as a farewell gift. Kageyama unwittingly produced a noise that could be compared to the sound of a dying crow.

            At this, Tsukishima noticed his presence and stood up immediately, dusting himself off and double checking himself. He seemed about ready to say something but then turned firetruck red and instead made a futile attempt to hide the roses behind his back. He opened his mouth again, before stuttering to a halt after his gaze landed on the towel hugging Kageyama’s hips. The journalist adjusted his tie and turned his head his way and that, doing his utmost best to look anywhere but at the setter. Kageyama immediately felt extremely underdressed.

            Nevertheless, he wasn’t about to prolong the upcoming rejection by bothering to get dressed. Taking yet another deep breath and steeling himself for the heartbreak to come, he walked up to the window and knocked to get the traitor’s attention again.

            “What’s all this about?” he asked. Tsukishima shuffled from one foot to the next, looking extremely uncomfortable.

            “I… I missed your game.”

            “I was there. I know you missed it.” Kageyama interrupted, wishing Tsukishima would quit twisting the knife that was seated up to the handle in the setter’s still beating heart. If these flowers were Tsukishima’s way of saying ‘I’m sorry, but it’s over,’ then Kageyama didn’t want to hear it. It hurt more than enough to know. Yet here he was. Just waiting. Hoping that maybe amid all of this hurt he’d get an explanation for it all.

 

            “I heard you won.” Tsukishima fidgeted and adjusted his tie again. God, he was so uncomfortable right now… Was it just him or was it getting difficult to breathe? Maybe he tied it too tight from all the nerves. That was probably it. It didn’t help that he was progressively becoming even more nervous. The realization that he was going to have to have this conversation with Kageyama while the setter wore nothing but a towel knocked the wind out of him… as well as the apology speech he had spent the past twenty or so minutes agonizing over. For what felt like the billionth time that day Tsukishima cursed Oikawa’s very existence for the torture that Satan spawn was indirectly putting him through.

            “Oh?” Kageyama’s voice was cold and stern, unfamiliar, almost as if his beloved setter had been replaced with a different person. Tsukishima couldn’t bear to meet his eyes for fear of seeing an icy glare in place of the sweet well-meaning scowl he was so accustomed to.

            “Hinata told me. I got there just as he was leaving. I had to run because the bus left just before I finished the interview I was forced to do, but I was still too late…” Tsukishima braved taking a look at Kageyama’s face. The setter was wearing an expression caught between despair, confusion, and understanding, and Tsukishima, grasping at the tendril of hope before him, rushed to plead his case.

            “I am so sorry, I really was planning on coming today, I even reserved a ticket, but one of my co-workers was out sick, so I got assigned his job, but I’m ninety percent sure that the dude took a sick day on purpose because the guy he was supposed to interview was the devil in disguise, like the kind that wears Prada and carries a Gucci tote bag for his tiny dog except he didn’t even have a dog; he probably just needed the ugly thing to carry his excess ego in!” Raven eyebrows arched in surprise at the confession, an understandable reaction considering how rarely Tsukishima allowed himself to lose his cool. “He claimed to be your upperclassman from a while back actually: Oikawa Tooru?” Finally, to Tsukishima’s immense relief, blue eyes lit up in recognition and even began to sparkle with amusement.

            “That sounds like a nightmare. I only have to see him on the court nowadays and even then he’s irritating.” Tsukishima felt like he could breathe again, recognizing what sounded an awful lot like understanding and forgiveness in Kageyama’s words.

            “I’m pretty sure I’m scarred for life. He arrived thirty minutes late to his own interview! Who does that, other than prime ministers and presidents? But that’s beside the point right now.” Feeling that he had made his situation clear now, the journalist decided to cut the discussion off there. After all, he was not here to complain about Oikawa all night, although he most certainly could do so, and the movie was starting in an hour. He straightened out his shoulders and, bringing himself down onto one knee, presented the bouquet he had been unsuccessfully attempting to hide for the past few minutes.

            “My Liege, as atonement for my regrettable absence at today’s game, I would like to invite you to accompany me for an evening outing,” the blond proclaimed in the most flowery fashion he could muster. With one arm behind his back and his head bowed, his eyes flickered upwards to assess the setter’s reaction.

            To his delight, Tsukishima found that Kageyama was flushed to his ears and his default scowl had blossomed into a gorgeous smile that took up half his face. Although the journalist had brought his camera with him, he could safely say that he easily preferred the task of committing the beautiful sight to memory instead of film in that moment.

 

            “Are you asking me on a date?” Kageyama knew what that had sounded like, but he had to make sure before he could alleviate the heavy burden he had been carrying in his gut. To the setter’s immense relief, Tsukishima grinned and nodded in affirmation. Kageyama barely restrained the delighted laughter that had threatened to burst right out of his chest. This was real. This was happening. Tsukishima had not forgotten or abandoned him. Instead, he was actually inviting him on a real date! Those roses were not a farewell gift, but rather a show of affection! In retrospect, Kageyama felt silly for thinking it was anything but.

            “Well? Do you accept, My Liege?” Tsukishima inquired, gently smiling up from where he was still kneeling before the volleyball star. Kageyama dropped down to his knees as well with a slightly breathless yes, pressing his forehead against the cool window, trying to remember how to use his lungs to their full capacity again. Tsukishima’s smile widened to match his own and the blonde leaned in to press a kiss to Kageyama’s nose through the glass, cheeks tinted a nice rosy pink.

            “Well in that case you should probably get ready. The movie is starting soon, and I wanted to take you for some food first. If we go like this then people will want to eat you instead of their meals.” At that Tsukishima gave a pointed glance downward and gave a lighthearted wink. Oh, that’s right… Kageyama’s clothes… or rather his lack of them. A towel was not decent date night dress. The blond laughed as Kageyama turned red.

            “Don’t worry, I’ll meet you at the door King! I do know those exist, I promise.” Tsukishima called out as he swung his legs over the railing, turning away from the window as he began his descent to give the brunet some privacy.

            Kageyama didn’t bother to watch him go, busying himself with picking out something appealing to wear. He wanted to make the best possible first impression. Well, technically, he had already made his first impression a long time ago, that impression consisting of his rude, snappy dismissal of the journalist alongside many others clamoring for an interview. His second impression wasn’t much better than the first, Kageyama being caught half-naked, flustered, and crabby. All things considered, it was a miracle that Tsukishima had even bothered with him! But here he was nonetheless, trying to look good for the guy who has already seen nearly all there was to see of the volleyball star.

            But, it was their first date after all. It was still technically a first impression. After quickly slipping into some underclothes and forcefully towel drying his hair, Kageyama was left staring into his closet in a bit of a stupor. What does one wear to a first date when they actually care about looking good?! With all of his previous experiences, Kageyama had never felt any real attachment to his dates. He put in the minimum amount of effort that it took to sate Hinata’s shrieks of, “It’s a date dumbass! Don’t you want to look nice?” Now that he actually did want to look nice though, he didn’t know where to start. The screen of his phone glinted in the corner of his eye.

            May God have mercy on his soul; he was never going to live this down. Taking a deep breath, Kageyama braved his fears and hit the green call button beside Hinata’s name. The phone only had time to ring once before his ears were met with the sound of Hinata’s concerned babble.

            “Kageyama!!! Are you alright?! You looked so ‘grrr’ after the game and you stomped out like ‘grah!’ and ‘shlam bam!’ Your boyfriend did come but he was way late so I told him about the game, did he ever call you? Did you forgive the blond beanstalk boy? He missed the bus I think and he kept saying something about a deal with the devil! Kageyama, is your boyfriend a Satanist? I don’t know if it’s a good idea to sleep with him if he is, it might be some sort of sacrificial ritual dude, unless you’re into that; I guess that’s a thing some people are into-”

            “Hinata, what do I wear?”

            “Huh?” Kageyama didn’t have time for this bullshit. Tsukishima was most likely already at his door killing time.

            “What do I wear if I want to look nice for a date?”

            “What?!” If Hinata sounded a tad bit dumbfounded, the Kageyama couldn’t blame him, but there really wasn’t time to spare for explanation.

            “God damn it Hinata, Tsukishima is literally waiting on me by my front door, help me pick something to wear right now, or I swear I will aim all of my serves directly at the back of your head for the next five practice sessions!” he growled in irritation.

            “Okay, okay! Sheesh… you better text me the details later you jerk!”

            “I will, I’ll even attach a freaking photograph if you want, just help me dumbass!” At the mention of a photograph the short ginger seemed to brighten up and immediately set to work selecting items from Kageyama’s closet. Thankfully, Hinata had spent an awful lot of time exploring Kageyama’s closet, whether helping with spring cleaning, or helping to choose an outfit for team Q&A sessions, and had even gifted some of the items inside, making him one of the best people for the job, to the surprise of many teammates. Considering Hinata’s fashion sense, it was hardly believable that he’d be any good at selecting outfits for others, but miraculously, Kageyama had never had an incident where he walked out of Hinata’s care looking like a clown. (Hinata’s explanation for this when asked was that Kageyama’s personality was too bland to dress him in anything fun. Kageyama was not complaning.)

            “Okay, remember that silk blue bowtie Tanaka got you as a joke last year? It should be on the top left self…”

 

            Tsukishima checked his watch. There was a little bit less than a full hour before the movie started, but the bus was coming by pretty soon, so if they could catch it, then they could probably still get to the café in time to grab something and then walk around the block to the cinema. Just as he was ready to re-check the bus schedule, even though he already knew it by heart due to his month of nightly visits, the door opened, catching his attention.

            Kageyama walked out, a noticeable pink tinge on his cheeks, looking thoroughly ashamed of something, despite the fact that Tsukishima could have sworn that the setter _must_ have heard the journalist’s jaw drop onto the ground. Kageyama looked positively brilliant. The sleeves of the black button up hugged his arms in a truly sinful fashion, and the blue waistcoat and matching bowtie really brought out the color of his eyes. If Tsukishima thought they had been blue as fuck before, then he really couldn’t come up with an appropriate comparison now. Just… yeah. That was _really_ blue.

            And, dear Lord… were those slim fit slacks?

            Tsukishima swallowed hard, his mouth suddenly the site of a mini-replica of the Sahara desert. He could have slurped up the entirety of some giant mountain lake in that moment and still have felt as if he hadn’t even seen water for days on end. Seriously, was that sand on his tongue, or was that what an involuntary compliment felt like?

            “Wow, you look…” Tsukishima, fumbling for words, not because there weren’t any he could have used, but because there were simply too many to choose from, and for once he couldn’t make a rational decision on the spot, choosing instead to fill the silence by awkwardly presenting the bouquet to the setter.

            “Like a clown?” Kageyama muttered, grasping the bouquet gently, looking for all the world as if he wanted to hide behind it. Tsukishima let out an amused snort.

            “I was going to say like a King, what with the royal blue and all.” The setter flushed further, beginning to resemble the roses he was holding. Tsukishima spared the other any further embarrassment by casually offering Kageyama his arm. Once his offer was graciously accepted after a bit of fumbling around with the bouquet and arm placement, the journalist led them to the bus stop.

            It wasn’t a very lengthy walk at all, and the men engaged each other in conversation, but Tsukishima could have sworn that the sidewalk was doing everything that was in the power of a completely inanimate object to trip him. Granted, his eyes were anywhere but the direction he was going, but that didn’t make his awkward floundering any less embarrassing, especially once he actually did end up tripping just as they reached the stop. Although his cheeks were a little warm from embarrassment, Tsukishima still swore that Kageyama’s resulting laughter was the most beautiful sound to ever grace his ears and he caught himself snickering along as they boarded the bus.

            Aboard it was rather crowded, the two men ending up squished together by the crowd. Tsukishima was lucky enough to be close enough to grasp a railing to hold on. However, the setter wasn’t nearly as lucky, and when the bus lurched forward, the momentum sent Kageyama toppling face first into the journalist’s chest. On instinct the blond wrapped an arm around the other for support.

            Almost instantly, Kageyama began to stumble over something that sounded like an apology, so Tsukishima waved him off.

            “It’s fine, don’t bother. It’s easier this way anyways.” That settled the volleyball player down. Despite him looking at his feet clearly trying to hide his reddened face, his rigid spine noticeably relaxed underneath Tsukishima’s palm.

            Tsukishima felt endearment and warmth swirling around in his stomach, but this pleasant feeling was ruined when he began noticing the stares of a few of the older passengers around them. Although most people seemed rather indifferent to the sight of two men in close proximity to one another, there were a few that appeared unnerved by their intimate position. While Tsukishima himself never particularly cared what others thought of him, he found that the stares irked him immensely, for they were not only directed at Tsukishima; they were directed at Kageyama as well, and that was not sitting well with the blond, his hold on the other becoming the slightest bit more protective. If Kageyama noticed his tightening grip, then he didn’t show it.

            Because the next stop had been near a large grocery store, many of the passengers chose to exit there, leaving plenty of room for Kageyama and Tsukishima to stand. Kageyama, sensing the new space created slowly lifted his head from where it had been resting on Tsukishima’s shoulder and pulled out of the journalist’s hold, grasping a railing of his own instead of Tsukishima’s shirt. The blond felt a sting of disappointment at the acute lack of contact, and gave the setter a questioning glance.

 

            “I-it’s public transport you know…” grumbled Kageyama quietly in response to the silent question. Had the journalist not been standing right next to him, he would have gone unheard. Tsukishima whispered back just as softly after a moment of thought.

            “Are you ashamed of me perhaps?” Blue eyes widened in shock and outrage. How could the journalist think such a thing?! Who in their right mind could ever be ashamed of having caught the eye of someone like Tsukishima?

            “Of course not!” Kageyama blurted out without a second thought, but the curious amber eyes did not relinquish their searching hold on him.

            “So then what _are_ you ashamed of?” Tsukishima’s inquiry was met with only silence passing through the tightened whitening lips of the setter.

            “Is it… you?” All it took was the surprised flutter of the brunet’s lashes to tell the experienced journalist the truth. After all, what was there to be liked about Kageyama? His volleyball skills and his fame were of minimal interest to someone like Tsukishima, and that was the primary reason anybody liked the setter in the first place as far as he knew. He supposed some of his fans liked him for his body, but that in mind, Kageyama had never really excelled all that much in the looks department because, despite his well-formed figure, his resting scowl scared away most suitors. On top of that, he had been told many a time that his personality wasn’t exactly the most desirable – too straight forward while simultaneously oblivious. Obviously, he also wasn’t well-known for his brilliant conversation skills. The obvious conclusion was that despite all of his notable flaws, the journalist simply liked Kageyama for who he was as a person, but the setter couldn’t help but worry that perhaps this was impossible; perhaps this was just some sick, twisted game after all, and this date stuff was just the final nail in the coffin before Kageyama would be forced to bury his feelings six feet under.

            Tsukishima sighed in a way that bespoke of his sad amusement and shifted closer, pressing their arms together. Kageyama jerked in panic, brought out of his musings by the sudden contact. Before the setter could pull away, the journalist gently wrapped his pinky finger around the Kageyama’s, cutting off the action before it had a chance to begin. Kageyama looked down at their joined fingers as if to fully register the newly formed connection before raising his eyes to meet Tsukishima’s, who held his gaze with an unexpected fiery confidence that Kageyama had never been privy to before. Kageyama held his breath.

            “Okay, listen the fuck up. You have jack shit to be ashamed of,” Tsukishima spoke in a low voice, just above a whisper, but forcefully enough that Kageyama got the impression that he was speaking into a microphone in front of hundreds of people, loud, insistent, and entirely unashamed. “You’re my _King_. I need you to remember that for me.”

            That was Tsukishima’s favorite title for him. King. Up until this very moment, Kageyama had never really understood the significance that the journalist had been thinly veiling with sarcasm. But in that brief, intense moment, Tsukishima’s eyes had said it all. King… Your Highness… Your Majesty… My Liege. Jests on behalf of the community given nickname turned personalized terms of endearment. They all ran together to symbolize the large complicated warmth that Tsukishima had been feeling for him while Kageyama had been none the wiser.

            He nodded in newfound understanding and tentatively squeezed with his pinky as if to make a point. He got a squeeze in return a mere second later with a relieved warm half-smile. This felt right… this was right. Kageyama found himself grinning gleefully, reveling in the sliver of warmth he held beside him, his heart alight with a fire that he refused to stifle with fear of inadequacy anymore.

 

            When the bus arrived at their stop, Tsukishima decided to take a chance and laced the rest of his fingers together with the setter’s. Finding no protest, but rather receiving an encouraging firm grasp from the other, he pulled them out onto the busy sidewalk. Glancing back, he was met with a blinding smile, and feeling his own widening he led them along to his intended destination.

            Kageyama’s hand was calloused, yet gentle; a setter’s hand. On the other side of the window, Tsukishima had often wondered what such hands would feel like. He was not disappointed. They were warm and in an odd way, dignified. Never did he think that he’d see the day when he referred to hands of all possible things as dignified, but there was something about Kageyama’s that gave off a sense of earned pride. Perhaps it was because they, among other things, were a source of his pride. Either way, Tsukishima decided that they were exhilarating to hold. The same hands that dictated the flow of a volleyball game, the same hands that slammed down service aces, the same hands that set, spiked, and received over a hundred volleyballs traveling at high velocities nearly every day, the very same hands that followed through on split second decisions made in the midst of a furious battle for victory, those were the very same hands that were now so warm, relaxed, and malleable in his grasp.

            Tsukishima strongly suspected that hand holding was going to be a thing he would engage in often… it was addicting as hell.

            The café wasn’t actually a long walk from the bus stop, so within a few minutes the two men entered the very same establishment that they had both already been in a month ago, each there because of the other, but not together. Now however, they were there together for no reason but each other.

            Well, that, and actually getting something to eat and drink obviously.

            That was the purpose of a café after all.

            There was a line of about four people in front of them, but the cashier was making quick work of the orders, so it was their turn momentarily. Kageyama approached the counter with an air of uncertainty. He glanced back at Tsukishima, then back up at the menu, then at the counter, back at the menu, then at the cashier, then at Tsukishima again. Tsukishima mercifully approached the counter, heeding the unspoken request.

            “Could we get two vanilla bean lattes please?” he asked, and Kageyama made a face of explicit gratitude and relief. There had been too many good drinks on the menu to choose from as Tsukishima found out from him later. After a moment of consideration, Oikawa’s advice still floating around (irritatingly) in the forefront of his memory, Tsukishima added on to his order.

            “Could I also get a rice bowl for this guy and piece of that strawberry shortcake with a strawberry on top for myself?” Tsukishima nudged Kageyama out of the way before the other could consider paying for the order, completed the transaction, and pulled the brunet out of the way of the customers behind them, heading for the pick-up counter. At Kageyama’s pout he grinned.

            “Hey, I said I was treating you, didn’t I?” Kageyama looked ready to argue, but relented at the sight of food. They took their order into the back corner booth, open mostly only because many of the customers were taking their orders to go. Tsukishima got himself as comfortable as a 190 cm human being could in a small space intended for a target audience of teenage females and took a long drink from the latte he didn’t know he had been craving.

 

            “These are pretty good huh?” Kageyama piped up, seeing a deeply relaxed look appear on the journalist’s face after the blond took a sip of his beverage.

            “Yeah.” Tsukishima’s soft smile didn’t need words, and Kageyama was not about to complain. They sat in peaceful silence, sipping on their lattes, simply enjoying each other’s presence.

            “Hey, Your Majesty.”

            “Hmm?”

            “Do you want the strawberry?” Tsukishima was offering the strawberry off of his own cake? Who was Kageyama to say no to such an unexpected offer. He nodded, gave a quiet thank you, and reached for the luscious red berry perching upon the snow-white whipped cream.

            He was only surprised further when his hand was smacked away.

            “Uh-uh! My treat Your Highness.” Tsukishima smirked languidly flicking Kageyama in the nose with one hand and plucking the strawberry up from its creamy pedestal with his other hand, his long deft fingers leaving barely any time to blink. The setter rubbed his nose before realizing that the journalist was holding out the strawberry to him. When he went for it again, Tsukishima was once again quick to pull it just out of his reach. The blonde waggled a finger in his face.

            “My treat, my terms, My Liege. Now open wide and say ‘aah’ for me.” Kageyama raised an eyebrow at Tsukishima’s antics, but a familiar taunting grin was the only answer to the setter’s newest predicament. There was only one way to handle this.

            Kageyama sighed and leaned forward open-mouthed toward the delicacy being offered to him. Once he was within an appropriate distance, he gently wrapped his lips around the middle the strawberry. His tongue circled the berry, laved at the sides, Kageyama’s eyes closed in apparent enjoyment the whole while. When they opened again he had chosen that moment to pull back, letting the strawberry pop out of his mouth, having attentively removed the whipped cream that had been clinging to the sweet skin of the berry. With pride, the setter noted that the journalist’s attentive eyes were following his every move, rather fixated on the lips. If Tsukishima’s enamored look was anything to go by, he had not been expecting this turn of events. Damn, Kageyama was proud of himself. Slowly, teasingly, he took the berry back in his mouth and… viciously bit down just below the stem, pleased by the miniscule flinch he received from the other.

            He leaned back and chewed the treat with satisfaction as Tsukishima corrected his glasses with a stilted gesture and set the green of the strawberry aside in favor of picking up his fork and digging into the actual cheesecake. Kageyama remembered his own hunger and decided that this was the perfect opportunity to consume the contents of his rice bowl. Considering he hadn’t actually eaten dinner, the food was gone within minutes and Kageyama instead reverted his attention back to his latte. The delicious flavorful liquid brought back the memory of his first time trying it, and consequently the night that followed.

            “Hey, remember when you stalked me that one time?” Tsukishima sighed, looking thoroughly unimpressed at the conversation topic.

            “You’re never going to let me live that down, are you?”

            “You bet your ass I won’t!” Kageyama chuckled around his straw. Tsukishima maintained his unamused expression for a few moments before letting it slip into a sly smirk.

            “Well, I’m not much of a gambler, but if losing the bet means you get to claim the spoils then I’d prefer to bet my ass on you forgetting that incident.” The flirty wink that followed caused Kageyama to inhale nearly half of his latte and begin to cough violently as his face burned at the mere thought of the (admittedly not unappealing) insinuation.

            “Oh my god, are you trying to kill me on our first date?!” the setter forced out once he recovered, voice resembling that of an eighty year old smoker. Tsukishima raised an eyebrow as if Kageyama had suggested that the earth was a volleyball.

            “Of course not! I’m offended that you would form such a low opinion of me. I’m a classy guy Your Highness; I only kill on the third date.” Luckily, this time around Kageyama didn’t choke on his latte when he laughed.

            “Then I guess I’d better claim my winnings from our bet before you do that, yes?” The setter allowed his voice to drop an octave and felt a sense of utter satisfaction when Tsukishima’s face began to turn the same shade of red as his beloved strawberries.

 

            The rest of the meal passed in a flash and soon Tsukishima was taking Kageyama’s hand in his again, much to his hidden delight, in order to lead the way to the cinema. Kageyama followed the journalist with a peaceful expression and a curious sparkle in his eyes.

            At the door, Tsukishima was loathe to let go, but did so in order to hold open said door, gesturing the brunet inside with a flourish, to which he got an angry pout, a blush, and a quiet thank you. He accepted the thanks graciously and joined their hands again in order to pull the setter away from the ticket line and through to the lady who directed them as to which door to go through. He had made sure to get the tickets ahead of time in case their dinner had run late. It had been a bit of a risk, him not knowing for certain whether or not his invitation would be accepted or rejected, but he had taken it and was not regretting it in the least, both of them settling down into their seats in the back of the theater just as the previews came to a close.

            Kageyama wiggled in his seat with excitement, and Tsukishima smiled. The setter truly was one of the most endearing people Tsukishima had the good fortune to know. Almost immediately, the brunet became enraptured by the film, blue eyes fascinated by the plot development and inner monologue of the main character. When the love interest of the movie crashed into the protagonist’s life, the setter let out a small gasp right along with all of the teenage girls in the theater. By all means, the movie could have possibly been something deserving an award for all Tsukishima knew, but he was as absorbed in Kageyama as Kageyama was in the movie, and was too busy watching Kageyama’s reactions to register whatever lovey-dovey jazz went on upon the screen.

 

            As The Big Kiss finally looked like it might actually happen, Kageyama felt a hand on his. Tearing his attention away from the screen, he found that Tsukishima’s soft hand was now slipping underneath his palm in order to interlock his long cool fingers with Kageyama’s warmer, rougher ones. The setter decided that he was glad the theater had minimum lighting, the only actual light source being the screen up front, if only because it made it harder for Tsukishima to see how hard that small affectionate action actually made him blush.

            Tsukishima had nice hands; they were large, yet elegant, cold, yet soft, delicate, yet distinctly masculine. It was difficult, but Kageyama ignored this fact in order to try to avoid missing the climax of the movie. However, it seemed that Tsukishima was set on commandeering his attention. When the onscreen kiss finally took place, Kageyama felt his hand being lifted. Soft, warm lips pressed against his knuckles, and the setter caught himself holding his breath, all hope for paying the movie any more attention completely lost.

            Tsukishima was a true journalist. Even when doing something as simple as kissing someone’s hand, he was nothing if not thorough. That first press of the gentle lips was merely the beginning of their incredible journey over the mountains of Kageyama’s knuckles, through their valleys, across and all around the entire prairie that was the back of Kageyama’s hand, the canyons between each finger, the heated desert of his palm, and straight up to the edges of each finger as if to all the possible edges of a small, but absolutely fascinating world of its own. Tsukishima went over each location over and over again, traveling around the ‘world’ in far under eighty days, making sure to touch every possible piece of it, mapping it out perhaps in his memory, researching every millimeter as if preparing to write an article over it. Kageyama was certain that when Tsukishima mouthed at the soft skin of his inner wrist, the blonde could feel Kageyama’s thundering heart through his fluttering pulse point.

            This unexpected adventurousness of Tsukishima’s lips fully captivated all of Kageyama’s senses. All he could feel was the delicate caresses. All he could see was the flutter of Tsukishima’s eyelashes when the journalist would reach a spot he couldn’t immediately identify through touch alone. All he could hear in the crowded theater was their barely audible breaths and the occasional rustle of their shirts as Tsukishima maneuvered the setter’s hand to get a better angle. All he could smell was his own cologne and a hint of popcorn somewhere in the blurry muffled distance. All he could taste was strawberry.

            He only recovered his senses once the lights came on in the theater. The movie had come to an end. A few teenage girls were exiting the room crying happy tears. Most people had left when the credits first started, and those had just ended. Kageyama looked up from where Tsukishima was pulling himself away from his hand to see a very confused, red-faced couple shuffling next to them awkwardly, their way blocked by the long legs that belonged to the hand-ravishing blond and the setter’s bouquet. Kageyama flushed right up to his ears. How long have those two been standing there, unwilling to ruin the moment, but longing to leave and continue their own night out? The setter stood up abruptly and bowed vigorously, fumbling with forming his apology properly. In the end, it was Tsukishima who calmly apologized for the setter and took care to lead the brunet out of the theatre before the other had time to devolve into a floundering mess of awkwardness and nerves. Social interaction was, after all, not Kageyama’s strong point.

            “How was the movie?” Tsukishima asked once they were out in the chilly night air again. Kageyama hugged his bouquet closer with one arm and gripped Tsukishima’s hand tighter with the other. If he were to give an honest answer, Kageyama didn’t actually remember what happened in the movie past the moment when Tsukishima first chose to kiss his skin. Heck, he couldn’t even say if the main character ended up with her main love interest or with her sweet next door neighbor! But he couldn’t tell Tsukishima that the journalist had essentially wasted a perfectly good movie ticket on the likes of Kageyama.

            “It was… good.” Kageyama tried to read the blank stare he was receiving in his peripheral vision. God, he hoped he wasn’t blushing. It was probably bad for his circulation or something to have blood rush to his face so often…

 

            “Sorry,” muttered Tsukishima after a pregnant pause, “I was told you might like it, but I guess it wasn’t trustworthy advice after all.” He really should have thought the night through better. Clearly, the movie hadn’t been one that much caught Kageyama’s attention. Maybe Tsukishima should have actually asked the other what movie the setter wished to see instead of going on a whim. Especially since said whim was the product of interaction with Oikawa of all people. Tsukishima was pulled out of his musings before he could do something rash, such as plot a murder of a certain egoistical setter, by Kageyama squeezing his hand.

            “Hey,” Kageyama said with a hint of both amusement and embarrassment in his voice, “it’s your fault I didn’t like the movie as much as I liked your kisses, dumbass. You’re distracting.” Tsukishima quirked an eyebrow with a self-satisfied smirk as the meaning of Kageyama’s words sank in.

            “ _Oh?_ ”

            “Shut up,” came the amicable retort.

            The bus ride back to Kageyama’s house was filled with comfortable conversation about nothing important, yet at the same time everything of any meaning. The men spoke in low tones, their infrequent quiet murmurs drowned out by the hushed roar of the muted chatter of other passengers. Tsukishima did not let go of the setter’s hand for the entire length of the ride. In fact, the hand holding continued right up to Kageyama’s front door.

            Once there, as if in sync with the other, the men joined their other two hands together as well, Kageyama’s laying in Tsukishima’s as they stood facing each other, trying not to acknowledge the forming tension. Tsukishima was at a loss. He didn’t want to let go yet, but for the life of him he could not come up with a decent excuse to stand there much longer.

            “So…I had a good time tonight,” inwardly Tsukishima felt like smacking himself for uttering such a truthful, but utterly cliché line. Kageyama shifted to his other foot awkwardly staring down at the concrete as if looking for a good answer. Tsukishima didn’t blame him. He himself was pleading with the stars to tell him something sensible to say. They probably looked so silly: Two full grown men, standing on the doorstep while holding hands, one of them staring intently at the ground, the other stargazing.

            God help them.

 

            “Me too.” Kageyama’s answer was stilted and he grasped Tsukishima’s hands tighter. Surely there was something more he could say, right? Where were his words? What more was there to say?! Kageyama felt like if he had been a poetic guy, this would have been the perfect moment to bust out in rhythm and rhyme, but, as it was, he was no poet, but a mere volleyball player. Oh, the life of a linguistically uninspired mortal…

            “I’ll come by tomorrow in the normal fashion then?” Tsukishima asked, his thumbs rubbing gentle circles into Kageyama’s skin. Whether he was doing it because he sensed Kageyama’s nervousness, or because he was trying to cover up his own, the brunet couldn’t tell, but was grateful for the action regardless.

            “Please do. Wear something warm, I heard the temperature is going to drop tomorrow.” Kageyama’s smile mirrored the one that grew on Tsukishima’s face.

            “I will if you wish. I find that my love for my King keeps me pretty warm though.” A heartbeat is skipped in their chests.

_He found the courage. So will I._

 

            “It’s amazing how you can call me King when you’re the one who rules my heart.” Kageyama whispered back, and Tsukishima swore he felt time stop. Nothing disturbed the silence that followed. Even the evening breeze that had been whispering sweet nothings into their ears as it swept through the night seemed to hold its breath alongside the two on the doorstep. The distance between them slowly dissolved, Tsukishima’s senses being overruled by the heat of Kageyama’s body pressing up against his, his arms encircling the journalist’s waist and his hands gripping his hips as Tsukishima’s came up to cup the setter’s face, his field of view filled entirely with wondrous blue eyes and warm cheeks. Tantalizing, rosy lips were mere millimeters away, and Tsukishima swallowed a nervous lump before letting his eyes flutter shut and-

            “I-I never actually got your number!” Kageyama exclaimed, bowing his head, his hands still resting on Tsukishima’s hips, though gripping tighter than strictly necessary. Tsukishima couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity of the situation. Here he was, lowly Tsukishima Kei, in a lover’s embrace with one of the top setters across Japan, who he’d followed home for an interview, accidentally fell for, visited on his balcony nightly, taken indecent photographs of, almost lost the trust of, touched for the first time tonight, confessed his love for tonight, almost _kissed_ tonight for God’s sake, and through all this, Tsukishima had neglected to give the guy his number! At least he knew for sure they were both a nervous wreck.

            He left one hand perched comfortably on Kageyama’s shoulder and dug in his pocket for his phone with the other.

 

            “Here, you can give me yours and I’ll text you tonight, okay?” Kageyama sighed in relief and gladly recited his number to the blonde. They stayed in the warm embrace for a little while longer, chatting about how ridiculous they must look, until Tsukishima finally spoke up:

            “The King really should call it a night already. You do need to get up early tomorrow if I remember correctly.” Tsukishima wasn’t wrong. Kageyama had to attend an early morning debriefing tomorrow. With a sigh, he released Tsukishima’s hips from his grasp and instead reached for the door handle.

            “Should I also call you a knight for releasing me from your hold with such honorable intentions?” The journalist smirked at the setters words.

            “Would you rather my intentions toward you were lecherous and dishonorable?”

            “I would rather not be released.” Kageyama braved a wink, and, when he turned to open the door, was rewarded with another gentle embrace, Tsukishima’s arms coming up from behind him to wrap around his middle.

            “That can be arranged, Your Highness. You shouldn’t tempt me.” The journalist whispered into the star setter’s hair, eliciting a pleased shiver from the latter. Tsukishima’s hugs were very quickly becoming his favorite thing, right alongside volleyball. Hinata’s hugs were the kind that came out of nowhere and bowled him over with the force of a bulldozer. Tsukishima’s hugs were the kind that felt like being encompassed by a giant heated blanket. Even though Tsukishima’s hands were cold, the rest of him was pleasantly warm.

            Kageyama never wanted to leave.

            But sacrifices had to be made for the greater good.

            “If anything, you’re the temptation, Tsukishima Kei. I’d better go before you make me stay out here all night.” He smiled as he felt a kiss being placed into his hair.

            “Very well, My Liege. I shall see you tomorrow at the usual time and location.” was Tsukishima’s response, and with a wave goodbye, the blond was striding away in the direction of the bus stop. Kageyama closed his door behind him and fell back against it, a happy smile overtaking his face. What a night!

            He went about undressing and brushing his teeth again, feeling lighter than the air in a volleyball. He had won a volleyball match during the day, and now, he had gone on a date with, held hands with, hugged, and almost kissed Tsukishima! Could his night get any better?

            As if to answer the unspoken question, Kageyama’s phone gave an insistent buzz. It was an incoming message from an unknown number.

            _“Sweet dreams my King.”_

            Sweet dreams they were.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for staying with me!~ I'm terribly sorry for my lack of replies and for keeping all of you waiting for so long, but there have been serious setbacks in both my personal and my academic lives which I needed time to take care of. I am relieved to say that I have gotten out of a six month long emotionally abusive relationship, completed countless projects, and managed to get all my friends and family gifts for the upcoming holidays. This chapter is my Christmas/New Years gift to all of you, and hopefully I will be able to have the next chapter up and running sometime this year! As always, feel free to comment and critique! I send you all my love!

**Author's Note:**

> Please comment and let me know what you think! Feel free to give constructive criticism and suggestions for improvement. This is not beta read, so if you see any mistakes please inform me! Thank you for reading!


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